Thoughts You Will Never Read

4:08 am

Dear you,

What am I doing? Such a simple yet complex answer. I mean, there are so many answers and so many answers that you would never actually say out loud because . . . well there are just some things you should keep to yourself. You know?

Today, or I suppose I should say yesterday since it's 1:11 am currently and what am about to say definitely hasn't happened in the past hour, was a lot. I went to bed at 4:08 am, and continued to stay in bed until 4:10 pm. There is a multitude of things I could say about the fact that I was in bed for twelve hours - at least 8 of which I should not have been - but I have already mentally discussed that point with my elf many times. 

College was supposed to be the time to find myself . . . to learn new things, get into my hobbies, be stressed, be crazy, fall in love. And while I can recognize that achieving all of that by my fourth week would be absurd, I can't quite figure out everything else. 

My eager attitude has been easily replaced by a behind-schedule homework load, a semi-messy room, and a "what am I doing?". After wasting away for 12 hours, I realized that I really need to do something about myself. Have you ever looked at yourself from an outsider's point of view and just thought "wow, they are a mess". Cause, yeah. That's basically how it went. 

I keep making a list in my head of things I need to get done, but for some reason can't find the motivation to actually do them. Or finish them. Sometimes I do start doing what I need, and then I start like three others and end up getting none finished.

So, I did what any sane person would do.

I ignored my homework, signed up for fitness classes, threw myself into some art, and went out to the movies where I bawled for two hours watching Dear Evan Hansen.

My room? Still sem-messy. Homework? Let's not talk about it. Class prep? I opened the tab sooo... 

And let's not even talk about my not-so-gone skin habits. It's not like I mean to pick or scratch, it really does just happen. My mom says I should go to a dermatologist, but I think that's a lot of money to spend just to hear it's psychological. They'd probably just agree with my doctor, that I should be on medication for my anxiety, but come on . . . my anxiety isn't that bad. At least that's what I say to myself when I start trying to rationalize skipping class if I'm a single minute late (because that is just way too much pressure).

But really, I'm doing fine.

I feel fine. My room looks fine. My diet is fine. School is going fine. Socializing has been fine. 

Basically, my life is the equivalent of a parking ticket pick-up line. Comforting, I know. 

I really need to get my life together - or get a life period. I'm starting to think my mental state and urge to cry combined with the lack of me doing what I normally would is a sign of my depression getting worse and not me just being a cliche college student in a book before midterms. But who talks about that? It's not like I'm just going to whip it out in the middle of a conversation with people I've barely known for a month or call home to worry my parents who aren't even in the same state... 

I've kind of just used movies as a coping mechanism. I mean, I've watched A LOT of movies. I've watched Happy Death Day and Happy Death Day 2U each twice, Wish Upon, God's Not Dead, The Map of Tiny Perfect Things, The First Time, Can't Hardly Wait (which I also watched twice), She's the Man, K-12, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, Nerve, and as I previously mentioned, Dear Evan Hansen. I feel like I'm missing one, but eh. 

And although I haven't been up for even 12 hours, I'm off to sleep once again (seeing as I now have seven hours until I have to head to school).

Wish me luck.