Diary of an Anxious Wreck

Wednesday, January 5, 2022

I know it's been three days since I last filled your pages with my thoughts but I have a very good excuse for that.

Depression. It's depression.

There are currently three bottles of whiskey and a bottle of gin in the kitchen, all at different levels of depletion. I want to finish them all so bad right now, but I'm trying to support Dad with dry January.

He's also trying to go the whole month without smoking and I never thought I'd say this but I wish he would because it has turned him into a total impatient prick.

Judgement just radiates off him and he doesn't even try to hide it.

Back on Monday I had leftovers from the burrito bowls as my lunch. It was absolutely awful cold. Maybe not as bad as I think it was though.

Perhaps because I was still unsure about everything when I made it the night before, it was a pleasant surprise when it turned out as well as it did. Then I was expecting a similar degree of quality the following day. Judging it on its own rather than in comparison to the night before, maybe it wasn't that bad. I'm not gonna test it, it's just interesting to think about.

Dad's friend ended up staying at home that night because Dad and I were out of tests, but I still got chinese, so silver linings.

Other than a stupid mistake on my part, yesterday was pretty good. Dad and I made an impromptu trip to the cinema to see Spider-Man: No Way Home. Then we had to wait an extra two hours because with the way seating works in cinemas right now there was no room in the showing that was starting as we arrived.

I was so desperate to not miss any of that movie that I didn't buy any food or drinks at the cinema, meaning taking into account the ads and trailers beforehand and how long we were in the cinema before those started, I ended up wearing my mask non-stop for over three hours. And then I stayed up until five AM working on a screenplay.

I'll probably do the same tonight.

Is it bad for me? Most likely. Do I care? No, I do not.

I had a small anxiety attack earlier today. Dad bought a couple of sausage rolls in the bakery, I took the bag and said thank you. Two seconds later as we were waiting for Dad's latte to be made I suddenly got super anxious and started hyperventilating. It finished as quickly as it started, I was back to normal, or as normal as I can be, by the time Dad paid for everything.

Dad and I went on a walk along the river back on Monday. We didn't even get to the bank before we were stopped by the most adorable path blocker ever. It was a Golden Retriever.

I wish that I was a dog, they just have such simple lives. At least for pet dogs the only thing they worry about for the most part is when they're going to get their next treat.

I love water so much. It can be terrifying at times, sure, but it's also very peaceful. I remember doing scuba sessions at the leisure centre a few years back. I can remember the water completely surrounding me, I remember how calm it was. It was so silent.

That's what I imagine death is like. It's just peaceful. No stress, no sadness, no anger. Just the all-enveloping blackness, and calm. Not particularly scary, just different.

Probably not the best way for me to look at it, given the amount of guilt I feel. My little sister, my paternal family, Roman. All of these people I love, and I've done nothing but hurt them.

This has been a very short entry, but I don't think there's anything more for me to say right now.

I'll write in you again tomorrow. Virgil out