Am I?

I think I may be depressed but I'm not sure.

I'm still not sleeping well. I just don't want to go to sleep. And when I do go to sleep, I have trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. I don't remember my dreams like before but sometimes wake up feeling disturbed, like I'd dreamed about something upsetting but can't remember what.

I don't feel like doing anything but go out and stay in the company of friends. Going out alone is not good enough. I need people.

Other than my blog (which isn't 'real' writing), I don't feel like writing anything at all. Not even all the story ideas I've got tucked away. Work is such a tedious chore in a way it hasn't been before. I'm unable to concentrate as well and easily lapse into just turning on the music and doing nothing. And then seeking out more friends to chat with so I feel a little less lonely, even if it's pointless prattle. But I'm not good at small talk, never was.

Today I didn't chat with anyone (my parents don't count as real communication), and the day feels empty and gone.

I alternate between feeling fine and dandy and cheerful about things, and sinking into a sucking emptiness.

I often think about that night it ended. I don't think I ever cried so hard or experienced so much grief in my life. It's like when he left he ripped out a large part of me which sometimes fills up with random phantom things and sometimes just sits empty.

Often I feel perfectly fine, but there's always this nagging feeling that something's not right.

I guess I'm still a long way off from having my life normal. My friends bring me so much joy, but I fear I depend on them too much. Strangely, I depended on myself so much more when I was in a relationship. What the hell has happened to me?

I keep saying "Daffy's always ok in the end." I may not be right.