I've been in a paralysis for days. I come out of it to work, and then I come home and zombie out again. And if I start thinking or talking I immediately start crying. It's been a long time since I've been this miserable. Even Chicago winter was never anywhere near this bad.

I can't make myself do anything, so I figured I'd try to write. I spent nine and a half consecutive hours watching Gilmore Girls. And now I'm out, and that's probably the only reason I stopped. I should go to bed, but I'm not tired, even though I should be. I only got 4ish hours of sleep last night.

Being here is so miserable, so I work myself to death instead. Tommorrow I work at the yacht club from 9-5 and then I've gotta be at Chili's at 5:30. Won't be done until at least 10. Then dinner at Chili's on Tuesday and Wednesday. I'm training as a server at the Yacht Club on Thursday. Friday is my ten hour day at the yacht club. At least when I'm working I'm sort of immune, albeit temporarily, from the misery.

When I'm home it just sinks in, and everything makes me sad. If I'm not watching TV I'm staring off into space. Sometimes I try to remember if I actually really had friends at one point, and then try to figure out why I have none here and now. It's been a long time since I've been this desperate to hang out with someone...but no one has come through for me. And then that makes me wonder if Sean was right and there IS something wrong with me. Something that repels people. And I wonder if all these people that I had casual relationships with, that I thought bordered on friends, if they even like me at all. And above it all, I just feel so damn pathetic. I feel like a whiny baby. I AM a whiney baby. I'm so alone. I've never been this alone. Ever. I come home to this big, empty apartment, and I wonder if I'll ever get it even passably clean. I don't eat anymore. I eat free food when given, but have ceased to consume dinner. I don't feel like cooking. Not for just me. It's too sad. And my kitchen smells like raid anyway. I can't kill the ants. They won't go away.

At least the kitchen is spotless. I cleaned for hours. But the trash can is dirty at the bottom. I need a hose. But...I live in an apartment and am hence hoseless.

And I wonder how many days until I'm carless. I feel like I'm stuck in mud. This problem isn't getting fixed. The car will disappear. AND Baby Ruthe is going to starve if she doesn't eat more food. She's eaten half a bowl since Tuesday. That's almost a week.

I wish I felt more creative. I wish I had a drive to create. I just feel empty. Like an empty shell. Like, my body's still here but my mind was supposed to go on vacation but I didn't get the note so my mind's stuck here alone. This isn't a life.

I had forgotten how closely emotional pain can resemble the physical pain. I've been through some pretty bad physical pain this month, and I can honestly say that the emotional pain is pretty bad. The only good thing is that I'm more likely to fall asleep than be kept awake by that sort of pain. But if I AM kept awake, it's pretty much just as miserable.

I wonder whether anyone has ever read this blog ever. Why do I keep a blog? To ramble on about dumb shit, when no one actually cares to read it? I hate that I'm that self-centered and attention loving. I hate hate hate hate hate that.

But I'll to work and pretend to be a whole person, a complete person, until they try to talk to me about what I do for fun, or my friends, or a life at all, and then I shut down and babble because I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY. I can talk about all the shitty things in my life, but can't name one friend I hang out with in town. You know, more than once in the last year.

There's so much I need to accomplish this summer. Watching Gilmore Girls and staring at the ceiling are not on the list. I'm going to feel even worse if the summer ends and I'm in the same place as when it started.

I'm going to try to sleep now.