In order to graduate a year early, it's necessary for me to take summer classes. So for this past week, I've been at my apartment, by myself, with no roommates or any of my few friends who live in Athens.
And on the one hand I love it. I love feeling so independent, and being responsible for everything that I do. There are nobody's messes that I have to look with, no carefully negotiating who gets control of the television--it's very nice.
On the other hand, I am absolutely numb with loneliness. I feel like I forget the effect that depression has on me until it happens again. There are twisting vines squeezing any semblance of a human being out of me, and I can never fight it without the help of my friends or my family.
And now I don't even have them.
So melodramatic. But it's the only time I ever write is when I'm trying to fight this thing, so real, like a Hydra always growing more and more heads until eventually I'm sure it'll swallow me, and no Hercules will save me.
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