it deepens. I do not know what pockets of myself I can trust to remain intact anymore. I was once a meticulous and ordered soul, if not the most detail oriented then in my own way systematic. and yet...I find myself with a floor strewn with the paraphernalia of my life here that I have absolutely no drive to remedy. and I should be terrified. I should be upset. I should be many things, but catatonically going along should not be one of them. Do I dare ride this out til I can remedy it? will it come any time soon? will it even be worth it? I don't know that the fight now does not seem pyrrhic. Yet, push on as I must, I wake each morning, after nights of little sleep. what works? what helps? why can't I just get up already? I wish pray and hope...as I wait. with optimism? hope?... they taste bitter in my mouth, like lies. and to all other words I am apathetic.