Jury’s still out on whether this is temporary grieving or whether I’m slipping into an actual depression. At least for the meantime, I’ll let myself wallow. For no other reason than that I’m tired of trying to keep things together. I’m tired of trying to resist it.

I’ll say two things about feeling this way.

First, how incredibly uncomfortable it is.

Second, how part of me kind of secretly wishes for a catastrophe, for a tragedy, for seriously dark times. It feels worse, now, that everything is normal. At least when things are bad, I can point to the bad thing, and say, yeah, that’s why things are bad. At least I have an excuse to be all serious.