Alright now.

So, my camera is, at the moment, allocated to a time-lapse photography project, and, as such, cannot be moved from the place that it's located.

To compensate, when the project is over, there will be many pictures of me from each of the days I have missed.

It's taken me about a half hour to even choke this out. I've been feeling simultaneously reclusive, and a desire to tell everyone that I know what I've been going through. It's sort of a double-edge on the latter, though. When I tell people, "I've been going through a really rough period of depression recently," they generally don't want to hang around you. Which is fair, and I understand. But it really doesn't help.

I've been making a point to go to things I've been invited to, and even trying to scare up people to hang around, because I don't just want to be a lump. It works out fine, and I have a great time, until I get home and have to face the feelings I was running from when I was out. This has affected my life in some troubling ways. I've been having a difficult time getting out of bed in the mornings, some mornings I literally don't get up. I just had my first actual meal in three days at dinner, as when presented with food, my stomach sort of just rolls its metaphorical eyes. Been drinking meal replacement shakes, so I haven't died yet. I caught my hand trembling of its own accord yesterday morning, and I got kind of scared. Also, my belly button started bleeding today for some reason. But I suspect that last bit to be unrelated.

So, in a nutshell, that's what I've been working with. I'm not dead, and am planning on dragging myself up to Atlanta in some capacity after these projects are done (see: this upcoming weekend) as I cannot afford Frolicon. Sad days.

Right, to the shower. I'd prefer not to admit how many days it's been, but it's more than three.