Truthfully, the cravings for permanent quiescence haven't really gotten any better, but unfortunately, the dark nights of the soul don't fit into my calendar anymore. Begrudgingly and with great huffing and puffing, I still have to do all the crappy life maintenance things that come with the territory of sticking around. Suicide is a choice but what happens when I'm too detached at this point to even bother choosing? I've never had passive suicidal ideation before, it was always an active pursuit. The anorexia was my marathon training, the acute self-destructive behavior with drinking binges my HIIT sessions, the cutting and the hanging, I dunno, sprints? I can't even think of analogies anymore I'm just too blue.

I was watching a video today of a memory from last year, you know when Google Photos sends you little reminders of the passage of time and how you can't physically feel joy anymore? Who came up with that anyway? No one wants to remember things, says my focus group of one. Real depressing shit, but then again what isn't to someone who's depressed.

But it's low-grade now so who gives a fuck. I just want to feel excited about something, instead of just under water.