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I was supposed to call this weekend to schedule a doctor's appointment to get some antidepressants, either today or tomorrow since I took both days off work. I kept thinking about it, but didn't call, and kept forgetting. "Forgetting." I woke up this morning and knew I should call. And I didn't. I'm scared. I don't know why I'm scared to try something that might alleviate the depression. Maybe I'm scared it won't work, or scared of the side effects, or maybe I'm afraid to be happy. Because I don't know how to do that, and maybe it's too much of a risk, to give myself something to lose.

9:29 p.m. - 2014-01-27



It's not so much that I feel like I'm lost - as if I'm present with myself, but I've lost my bearings in unfamiliar territory. For example, being lost in the woods at night after losing track of the path. God, I wish. When I use the word lost, it's more akin to feeling misplaced - like an object left somewhere it doesn't belong, or maybe stashed in a new place for secret safekeeping, and I've forgotten where I put it. Like I dropped myself on the path somewhere a ways back, and I have no idea where or how long ago. So now I'm just kind of wandering around aimlessly.

12:47 p.m. - 2014-01-27


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