Wow. I'm in a bad mood. I feel much better now that I'm getting my Icarus "hit".

I was on the phone with my girlfriend tonight.
That went ok.
For a little bit.
Then I snapped.
oops.

All day I was regretting making any posts on this site. I felt like I was
inconveniencing people, or pissing them off, or freaking them out.
I felt (and still feel this way a little) like people who might like me, won't like me
because of my posts.

This feeling was so strong, I was contemplating running out to the street and
jumping in front of a moving vehicle.

Contemplating very hard.

I can't possibly describe how much I wanted to lodge a bullet inside my head.

Anxiety.
I think.

I never really understood what anxiety was. But if this is it, then I've had it for
most of my life.

Every sentence I say, every word I type and every motion I make will end up
causing my societal cruicifixtion. I'm scared to read messages and replies to my
posts. I feel like my brain is trying to climb a mountain with a pick-axe.

I wanted to die so bad this evening.

I'm angry that my left hand is injured. It makes playing the geetar very painful.

At least my mother is somewhat understanding.
I went into her room to ask her about what medication she takes for her
depression (I couldn't remember if she still did).
She takes prozac.
Then, after a nice little chat, I informed her I was going to take a couple pillows to go scream into (since she lives in an apartment).
And so I did.
It felt good to scream. I had to scream. I felt like reality had turned into one huge, heavy-mass object, and my brain was a black-hole stuck in the middle of it.

The world isn't caving in on me; my brain's a cosmic sinkhole.
Is that anxiety?
I hate that feeling.

Much love, my Icarists,
~Beau