Today was another day of trying; while I succeeded in a couple obvious ways, I still feel like a failure. Stupid February. Stupid fucking depression. I've given up winning this battle, but at the moment I don't even really want to keep fighting it. I'm trying to be healthier and save some money, but what I want right now is to get really, really drunk and cry myself to sleep.

My day started later than it should have; I think "overslept" is an understatement of inexcusable proportions. I went to bed shortly after five yesterday (that's pm, for once), slept until 10:30, ate some "dinner," went back to bed at midnight, didn't get up until almost noon. That's close to 18 hours by my count. I think it's a safe bet I'll have some trouble getting to sleep tonight. I woke up every bit as weepy and emotional as I was when I went to bed, and got next to nothing done for the first couple hours I was awake. Realizing I wasn't going to get anything done at home, I packed up my notes for my Monday night class and went to a coffee shop. I bought a bagel and too much coffee, managed to get all my homework done, even did a bit of writing.

Class was good, I think, but I felt like I kept interrupting the flow every time I opened my mouth. I really liked all three poems we workshopped tonight, but I it seemed like every time I said anything my voice was too loud, too harsh, and was followed by too much polite silence. I'm pretty sure I'm still that over-eager, pushy little swot and everyone just wishes I would keep my big mouth shut. We didn't get around to my poem, and I was more disappointed by that than I want to admit. I cried the whole way home, for no discernible reason beyond simple self-pity. I feel attention starved, and I want to tell myself to grow the hell up. I don't have a valentine, boo-fucking-hoo.

Yesterday I identified anger and the individuals I'm angry at. Today I seem to be sulking and re-directing that anger at myself. Sam taught me to recognize this pattern, but I still haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do to stop it. I want it to be all about me and how great I am, and it's not. I hate when feeling small is coupled with feeling alone, helpless against this overwhelming, indifferent world. I'm trying to meet my own emotional needs, but I have no idea what I'm supposed to do tonight. Wait it out, I guess. Make dinner, try not to cry, or drink, or call David. Keep trying. Keep waiting.