Deaf and Numb

Today I felt like I was walking through molasses. I couldn't get myself out of bed (or, for that matter, to remove my earplugs) until noon, although I woke up at 9:30. I finished The Bell Jar (by Sylvia Plath) in that time. . .but, still, I felt like I accomplished nothing.

When I willed myself out of bed, I got so far as my computer before the beginning of my day was delayed even further. It's just the depression, right?

I managed to (not) take a shower, and I put on sunglasses (as if there were actually someone here who would recognize me, and I didn't want them to). I headed to the gym, where I was lapped by an ancient man. It turns out that you should eat before you run. I got really dizzy and got a strange headache. I guess somewhere in my doing NOTHING, I forgot to eat.

I "finished" a bunch of homework. I put quotes around "finished" because I half-assed everything. I recycled one of my high-school papers for my writing class, I skimmed the reading (at best) for my language class, I decided not to read the readings for my writing class, and I watched 20 minutes of the movie I was supposed to watch for French before reading it's plot on Wikipedia. . .in English.

I am getting straight A's. . .I wish I feel like I deserved them. . .but, then again, I don't not deserve them. College is just enduring bullshit. Am I right? They can preach all they want about "self-betterment" and "well-roundedness," but until they sit through lectures so boring you would rather peel the skin off of your lips, I don't think they have any merit.

So, anyway, after I "ran," I decided to go sing (because, after all, I like to sing. . .I think). That went pretty well, but even in the padded walls of a practice room, I can't let my true voice out. I need total isolation and the peace of mind that no one is listening. . .or the opposite: people who want to listen to me.

After my vocal cords were thoroughly beaten, I ate (yay!). And then finished the rest of my day in a vegetative state on Facebook and staring at my left wrist. Now I am writing this post with my head against the wall. This is boredom, today.

I'm in New York City, and I'm bored.
Now I'm staring at a bottle of Prozac.
Facebook stalking people.
Going to bed early.
Signing off.

-Violet