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A magical trip awaits you in Lucia's mind...
I'm like this sometimes 2.0
Sometimes it's not depression. Sometimes it's just a bad day.

Some days, I wake up without the will to live the day. Some days like today. It doesn't mean I want to die. It just means that I'm a drained out soul and if I were to leave this world today, I would put up no resistance.

Some days, like today, I wake up feeling ill. It's the type of ill that makes you want to cry to be cared for, but... I'm too tired to get help today. No, some days I'm just tired.

But it's not always depression. Sometimes it's just a bad day.

Sometimes you dread a day for weeks and when that dreaded day comes, you realize you couldn't care less about what happens. Some days that are fated to be bad days are sometimes bad for no reason rather than some reason.

Perhaps it's that culminating apprehension that has birthed a bad day for me. That countdown to a worry-worthy day has reached the negatives. Today has started and there's no going back now. I suppose there's no going back ever.

I should accept that. I should accept that the past is unchangeable. I should accept my merits and faults and know that what has been done cannot be undone. Compensation, maybe, but there are no undoings.

Dear reader, for the last two days, I have been dreaming of a dead man.

Close your eyes and breathe steady. Tuck your legs in so that your ears are between your knees. Keep your hands warm and breathe steady. And don't throw up in the car.

HOUR UPDATE: (This entry was written on my iPod so I work on it throughout the day.) My symptoms have lessened but are still present. You know when your stomach cramps and threatens to make you throw up? I wonder if I'm sick.

Not this morning, but yesterday morning and the morning before then, I've been visited by a dead man in my dreams. It's the most peculiar thing and you think after seeing him once, I would know he doesn't exist the second time.

It's my No'C, dear readers, who has been visiting me. I don't know the sure reason why he has suddenly reappeared in my life. As of the end of July, it had been over a year since I last saw my No'C.

UPDATE: It has now been about half a day since my last sentence. I just awoke from a dream where the dead man's name was used by mistake, but I don't think I saw him. I would rather see the dead man again than have the dream I just did. For the record, they may as well all be nightmares.

I'll just recap my emotions throughout the day real quick. I spent most of the day with my mother, helping her in the kitchen and whatnot. The Rio 2016 Olympics have started so I played a recording of the opening ceremony for my parents to watch. I would occasionally watch, too, but I was mostly selling my things on the marketplace. I only tuned into the Olympics when I had to skip past ads, but somehow... Somehow I enjoyed it, being useful. When I was helping my mother, she had her most successful trial at attempting to make these Vietnamese pastries. It was a nice day from the outside.

'Twas a nice day except for the constant urge to throw up. I wonder if I'm sick.

Anyhow, I didn't sleep much last morning and I got up earlier than planned. I was very worn out and I'm not sure when I passed out, but I did. And then I dreamed, as I always do. And then I remembered my dreams, as I always do.

I won't immortalize the dream here. It was probably my least pleasant dream I've had all week, which is terrible because it should've been the best given the circumstances. In the dream, I did not see the dead man, but his name was mistakenly used when referring to someone I hope actually exists.

Their names are similar, so I suppose I shouldn't be too paranoid about it, but my dreams tell me about me and I don't see this mistake (using the dead man's name) as a good sign. It's a very, very unfortunate sign and I hope my brain just glitched. I don't want the implications to be true.

A meaningless hug. A hug that does nothing. An apathetic receiver. I didn't know those existed anymore. It's been over half a year since I've experienced it. It scares me.

I'm probably not making any sense at all. I'm sorry. I don't feel very well. I haven't been feeling well for a while, but let's talk about the dreams in which I met the dead man. Oh, but it was much more than a meeting.

We were watching a performance of some sort. I vaguely recall having difficulty finding the entrance of the theatre, but my friends ("friends" wink led the way and we made it there easily. I recall thinking that should I leave, I would not be able to find my way back.

(On a side note, I am suddenly crying. I should probably closed my door and open my window more.)

(Dear reader, did you know that my hands ache when I get sad? And boy, do they ever hurt now)

In the dream, we ("friends" wink were waiting for the theatre doors to open. I was with No'C and Root Beer didn't exist. It was just me and No'C and we were embracing. I remember thinking I missed it, missed him. I remember smiling because I was happy and things were swell.

...until I woke up, feeling disgusted with myself.

There was another dream where I met No'C. I suddenly don't remember the details (it's been too long unrecorded). I do remember that in the dream, No'C and I were still together.

And I was happy. Dear reader, it's so unfortunate to dream of the past and be happier in the dream than you are in reality. This has been the case before, but I don't... want to be happy like I have been in my recent dreams.

*deep breathes*

(I have stopped crying. Calm blue ocean, my soul.)

I don't want to be depressed. I remember in an entry of a handwritten journal I keep, I wrote that I didn't know if I was sad because I was scared [to be alone] or if I was scared of my sadness. Why was that relevant to note, Lucia?

I don't know. Ahhh, shoot me, I don't know anything. This is such a messy entry. No one will enjoy reading this, not even future me, I bet. I kinda want to write an entry about apathetic forms of endearment. Maybe another day. I'm sorry for being so scatterbrained.






She was lying on the floor and counting stretch marks
She hadn't been a virgin and he hadn't been a god
So she names the baby Elvis
To make up for the royalty he lacked

yum_puddi





 
 
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