I don't know if I'll be coherent. I just have the bee hive mind and it won't stop. I am waiting. I am in this waiting place. I am trying to be patient but the well of hope is a tank that is always tipping near empty. Then some days it just goes dry and it takes all I have to scrape up a little more hope. The question is how much damage do I do to myself on empty. The depression, the absolute wish for the world to stop. I hate it. But I don't have much else right now. I've been moving, taking some walks. I should be proud but perfection comes a callin and it takes me down. It's truly better than nothing and more than I've been doing. Perfection is so cruel. It taunts me unceasingly. I can't just enjoy this beautiful life. I can't just see what's in front of me and be thankful for this blessed life. Things are supposed to be fun. I dedicated my years to something that only brings me stress. It's supposed to be fun. What's the point if there is no fun in this? Yes, I need a job, I need a responsibility. We all have to grow up but it's still supposed to be fun. I'm so tired of not having any fun.