I’m reading a long old journal entry during the bad period I had in winter 2010 and the funny thing about it is that almost nothing in it is surprising.  It’s almost eerie, it reads exactly like what I’d write if I were trying to roleplay myself from that time, based on my spotty memories and (more significantly) my own understanding of my psychological development.  It’s like I’ve reached a sufficient level of self-understanding that I no longer feel like a three-dimensional character

(OK, there were some surprises – I’d forgotten my whole obsession of the time over “not being able to feel positive emotions,” like not getting crushes or feeling hopeful or affectionate or excited.  I’m not sure how much that’s actually changed and how much I’m viewing it differently?  Certainly I’m just happier overall and there are more things to feel positively about in my life, now.  But also I was looking back on a time of heightened emotions that I incorrectly assumed were normal, I may have internalized ideas about how you can only be ~human~ if you’re inflamed w/ passion 24/7, etc.)

(The thing I was mainly wondering is what I spent all my time doing back then.  The closest thing I got to an answer was “binging blogs to avoid thinking about grad school applications, and this has been going on for weeks,” which, OK, makes sense.  I also have no memory of what I ate during this whole time – since I don’t remember cooking, ordering delivery, or going out to eat – but no info on that front)

Anyway, I’m proud of Rob_2010 for this line, making reference to the fact that my housemates all shared coffee and liked to brew it extremely strong:

Even caffeine isn’t making me happy the way it usually does – I say, sitting here having consumed 2 rockstars and a few shots of DaveHouse™-Brand Cardiac-Function-Is-For-Pussies-Grade Hyperstrong-Hypershit Folgers Sludge Coffee, and just feeling paranoid and guilty.