all over again.

I'm miserable.

That's not to say I don't have good days. I do. But the general feeling is that of hopelessness.

I have no job, and despite the joking around I do on here, I have not actively looked since the first week out of school.

Every day is the same thing. I wake up (late, then feel cruddy for doing so) and feel sick. I try to eat better, to develop better habits, but I give in because I give up. I figure, what's the point? I try to eat three "meals" even though I wake up at 3 or 4pm. And yet, I end up feeling better on a night that I skip the third meal and just snack on junk food. If I can't figure out what I'm eating that's bothering me, then my mentality is to just stop trying. Usually by the time I go to bed (4, 5, or even 6am), I'm frustrated with myself, but intent on fixing my habits.

I'm always so inspired and motivated when thinking about the prospects of the next day.

My sickness is not one that's pleasant. Is it a horrible, crippling disease? No. But sometimes it sure feels like it. Digestive problems are nothing to sneeze at. I'll just say this: I need to have access to a bathroom at all times, because usually when I have to go, I have to go NOW. Eating makes it worse, because my stomach gets full and triggers everything. Stress makes it worse, and if that isn't the most fucked up thing ever, I don't know what is. Why? If I decide to go out (and that's a big IF), I stress about any possible lack of bathroom access. By stressing, my guts cramp up, and well, it's one big wonderful cycle.

What does this mean? I don't eat out anymore. I don't go anywhere, aside from The Boy's house and my aunt's house. Unless it's someplace I'm completely comfortable, I have a hard time keeping myself calm enough to even get to where I'm going. And I don't even think about getting a job because I can't imagine making it through an interview, nevermind a full day of work.

I've always been nervous, and I've always felt it in my gut. Never, ever to this extent, obviously. But even as a kid, if it was a holiday or an important day at school, I'd wake up with a bellyache.

All of this has also deeply affected my social life. I rarely go shopping. I can't even fathom going to the beach, or sitting in the car, in traffic, for an hour. My cousin, who used to be my best friend, is at an age where everything is spontaneous. "Just call me for lunch and we'll go," she says. I can't do last-minute anymore. I need to know ahead of time so I can try to take meds that usually help. Plus, she always wants to be out of her house, which almost always means food, and that never really works out.

I make horrible assumptions because I think that's what people are doing with me. I've always had a paranoia about my friends, but coming out of college I had a solid foundation with everyone. And yet, as soon as it slowed down, as soon as I saw less of my best friends and talked less with them as well, I fall into my old ways. I create these assumptions on what they must think of me, why they don't have time for me, why nobody visits, calls, e-mails, or texts.

It's absolutely awful to be living life this way. And I feel like there's no way out, which is scary. My sickness is hampering every other aspect of my life. Every time I turn down the few invites I do get to hang out, I feel guilty and sad. I often don't offer an explanation because the tedious (and really TMI) details of my problem are not worth talking about.

Writing all this feels so familiar. I feel like I've already said all of this. Maybe it's because when one bad thing happens, the dominoes that are lined up again get knocked over and every problem becomes painfully unsolvable again. That thing, this time, was a response I got to a message I sent my cousin. I asked her why we don't hang out anymore, and why it seems she has time for her other friends, but not for me. Her response was more defensive than expected, and mostly made me feel like crap for even trying to explain my feelings. It turned me into a sobbing mess, even though I keep telling myself she's only 18. I always expect her maturity level to be on par with mine, and it's clearly not.

Well that's the end of my rant, for now. I need to take a hot shower and calm myself down enough to go to bed.