A Nightingale In A Golden Cage

Sailing at half mast today, despite the medication.

I've felt the depression, the low tide, tugging at the corners of my being for about a day now. I'm wondering how long the medication will be able to triumph over what seems inevitable. After a few weeks of utter bliss and a complete lack of low tides, I've wondered how long it would take for my body to adjust to the SSRI medication, adapt, and overcome it.

Last night, I could feel it tugging at me and I wanted to do something with someone so that I could take my mind off of things, but no one wanted to do anything. So, my mind was permitted to wander as I killed things online with my pet spider.

I want to do something, but again no one wants to do anything. At 2pm, Lauren and I will deliver Candy Grams, so that should take my mind off of things.

It has been strange, living without depression hanging over my shoulder constantly like a ghoul as it haunts its victims. I seem to have more time on my hands - not much, but still a little more than usual - and I'm definitely happier more often. However, I've begun to feel the presence of that ghoul once more, as I mentioned.

I told Lauren and Jenn about the medication. They were skeptical about my need for it. I laughed. See? This is how good I am at hiding things from people. It's sad, really. I slowly tell Jenn a little more every time we have a conversation about it, but I still don't feel comfortable enough to tell her everything. She doesn't seem comfortable with the knowledge of my personal problems, nor able to adequately deal with it like some of my other friends. No, it's not that she can't deal. She doesn't quite know how to react, I'm assuming. Which is fine. Not everyone knows how to deal with these kinds of nearly-taboo issues. Coming from a small town where all she's known is her happy family of few problems, she probably cannot understand how someone can be so unhappy in their home.

My choice of music probably isn't helping at all. I have my "low tide" playlist on shuffle.

I'm always so paranoid that people look at my arms when they're not covered. Constantly, everywhere I go, I try to cover the most noticeable scars with a hand or a sleeve or a book, or sit in a way that prevents anyone from noticing.

Anyway. I'll just go back to my Star Trek marathon, now....