Here we are… halfway through March. Inching ever closer to the ultimate day. The final day.

The past few days I have started behaving peculiarly. I’m consuming food like a vacuum and I’m even forgetting ever even having eaten something until I go to get it to consume it again. I’m disassociating so much so that I nearly refuse to get out of bed. And with all of these signs I do not feel sad. Not actively. Looking at the signs it is clearly depression but… I feel nothing. It’s as if my heart has shut down.

I want to write something. Put “pen to paper” and pull out this poison but I cannot think of what to say or where to even begin. I can’t even be bothered. I just want to lay in coffin and shut the lid. (God that sounds so emo…)

I lay in the darkness of my spare room, listening to music trying to even figure out some poetic way to describe how I feel but… I feel like a husk; an empty soulless doll staring forward with a smiling, blank expression.

Sometimes I worry that this will cause me to have a nervous breakdown. I feel as though my mind is strong. It is solid and sturdy to weather any storm I may encounter. But you never know… does one ever? I keep thinking about my dad… did he sense his weakness? Did he feel the snap? Was he even aware of it? Was there any control or was he a puppet with something else pulling the strings?

I’m sorry… this makes no sense. I’m not making any coherent thought.