I’ve been especially melancholy and morose lately. I thought I had great expectations for this weekend; I usually do. Instead I spent the weekend, a little bit of Saturday and Sunday, nursing my wounded soul. I don’t have an especially good reason to be wounded, just my life in general.
I’ve been so wounded because I maybe have some very bad news, or a bad circumstance, coming down the pike but I won’t know until later. How much later, I don’t exactly know. I should know part of the news by the end of this coming week. The rest of the news, part two of the news, I’ll find out when I decided to fully investigate the situation. I have yet to build the courage to do that. I don’t know when I will. I might at the end of the week, we will see.
I’m in the process of writing about some of this. It is a very trying thing for me to do. Actually everything as of late has been trying. I do want to get a few things off my chest. Why, I don’t know. Somehow, this will be my therapy. I will find a way to overcome all of this. It is just obstacles. Obstacles I have put in my own way.
My goal for this week is to be very productive. To try to pull myself out of this melancholy spirit. Only I am too afraid if the pendulum swings in the direction of which I fear I will only be knocked for a loop that will be all but impossible for my chemically imbalanced brain to conquer.