Apparently I now know why people suffering from depression lack the motivation to get out of bed.

After overturning half my bookshelf, ripping my clothes from their hangars and throwing my statistics textbook in the dustbin, I collapsed in my bed in blood and tears and lay there for approximately 5 hours. During those 5 hours, I literally didn't want to get out. I vowed to stay in bed forever because I didn't want to face the realization of failing statistics. Fucking statistics, because I am SO fucking dense.

It was only til I realized that I had to clean up the water that had pooled on the floor from my defrosting refrigerator that I forced myself to get up and clean up the mess.

My arm stings still. I'm fascinated by the physiology of healing skin, and how ripping it apart with new cuts can incapacitate said healing process.

The only thing comforting me right now is Ryan Gosling and its witty charm during his interviews with Ellen and Jimmy and hearing his song on youtube. DATE ME RYAN.

But whey would you date a pathetic ugly thing like me?

I am a pathetic human being.