| Current mood: |  restless |
Ai, not psychic girl, though.
I'm struck with this sort of depression every now and then. Sometimes it's keyed to a specific stimulai, sometimes it's keyed to some vague measure of times passing, and sometimes, like tonight, it's a building phenomenon that finally reaches a point where I can't shrug it off anymore and it rests on me like a dead weight. It keeps me up, staring and thinking about things that only worsen the condition, and I can't sleep, and I don't want to eat, and I can't write or paint or do anything. I don't like it one bit.
In better news, I've had something of a breakthrough on figuring out what do do with the collection of portraits. I don't want to spoil the surprise, as it's only a seed germinating in my mind.
I can't believe my great grandmother finally died (this is hardly the cause of my depression thoug, I assure you). It's weird, since it's the first time I rebuted the old "she might not make it another year" argument my mother always makes that usually gets me on a plane to freezing ass Elcerito, but this time, she really didn't make it. It's just...derailing, I guess. I honestly can't believe that she actually died the one year I didn't let the guilt trip work. I don't feel bad, just sort of blackly humourous about the whole thing.
My mother is never going to let me hear the end of this one.
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