All I meant to do this weekend was write for my classes, but no, a fit of despair occurs and I'm haunted by constant imagery of how I can do away with myself. It's a fit so old that there's no one to call for solace or advice. Everyone's had it with my depression, and I've gotten myself into this life where I have no friends to call or see. Seeing my former friend and current roommate makes me feel like an asshole, and no one I've called will pick up the phone. Chungking Express has a character who jogs when he is heartbroken, because the human body can sweat so much that there is no water left for tears. I'd like to jog, for the first time since I recovered from arthritis. I took up smoking, though. And although I had quit for about a week, somehow I decided to buy rolling tobacco again, and I can't imagine my lungs will have the capacity to get me to one mile.