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apocalypsosI love taking online tests for depression because my results are usually, "Wow, do you live in a psych textbook?!" (I just truthfully answered "yes" to every question on Web MD's depression test. When your results page is in bolded red letters, that's a bad sign, right?)
Anyway.
Yes, my eye is bleeding. Or not bleeding. Whatever, there's a big red patch that scared the crap out of me when I looked in the mirror this morning, but the internet's answer to "OMG WTF WHITE OF EYE IS HALF RED OF EYE" seems to be, "Eh, whatever, shit happens."
It's not like I've had any trauma this week, unless you count being sick of working too much and then being too tired to do anything when I come home and not being able to write when I come home and then being depressed because I can't write even though I've got tons of ideas and then mentally kicking myself in the groin because fuck it, what does it matter, I suck and can't get published anyway, it's not wonder I'm suddenly breaking out all over my face like a fourteen-year-old boy, whatever, it's totally what I deserve for thinking I could ever be a published writer, I'm just going to curl up in the corner and sob, except I'm not really going to because I have to go to work at one of my jobs that I wish I could just quit but I can't so I'm just going to go and get dressed with my BLEEDING EYE.
... so how about those online depression tests, huh?
*headdesk*
Oh, right, yesterday was National Coming Out Day and I missed it.
I'm straight, with an option to bi.
(Heh.)
Anyway.
Yes, my eye is bleeding. Or not bleeding. Whatever, there's a big red patch that scared the crap out of me when I looked in the mirror this morning, but the internet's answer to "OMG WTF WHITE OF EYE IS HALF RED OF EYE" seems to be, "Eh, whatever, shit happens."
It's not like I've had any trauma this week, unless you count being sick of working too much and then being too tired to do anything when I come home and not being able to write when I come home and then being depressed because I can't write even though I've got tons of ideas and then mentally kicking myself in the groin because fuck it, what does it matter, I suck and can't get published anyway, it's not wonder I'm suddenly breaking out all over my face like a fourteen-year-old boy, whatever, it's totally what I deserve for thinking I could ever be a published writer, I'm just going to curl up in the corner and sob, except I'm not really going to because I have to go to work at one of my jobs that I wish I could just quit but I can't so I'm just going to go and get dressed with my BLEEDING EYE.
... so how about those online depression tests, huh?
*headdesk*
Oh, right, yesterday was National Coming Out Day and I missed it.
I'm straight, with an option to bi.
(Heh.)
