'Things are actually good. Kyle and I are good. My depression seems to have pretty much gone away though I have had some issues with my anxiety at times. I had a therapy appointment today. We had nothing to talk about. Mostly because I haven't been writing. If I write, there will be something to talk about. Like what I've been neglecting to actually say.
I'm doing good right now. I don't want to change anything about myself. I like where I'm at. I know I feel good/better because of the medication. I know that. ANd I want to keep that. I would rather go through life just being medicated and not change anything about my thoughts or whatever. I don't care. I like being negative. I like making jokes about death. I like myself being dark. It wouldn't necessarily change if I implemented the skills my therapist wants me to but still. I don't really want to change anything. Which I realize is a problem. Medication is supposed to help so you can get to a place so you can make the necessary changes. I know without the medication I would go back to being depressed and suicidal. I don't want that, but I also don't want to put forth the effort it will take to change myself. I'll be a full-time student next semester and most likely all semesters following it. I don't feel like I have time to dedicate to myself as well as my studies. I know I need to though, but I don't care. I don't care about that.
Kyle is working on himself though. And I'm really happy for him and encouraging and helping him with stuff, but for me? No. Not for myself. I don't care about myself like that. I never have. Hell, even my personal hygiene is taking a hit again as I don't feel like showering unless I'm with him. Brushing my crooked teeth was always something I neglected as a kid and it hasn't really changed in adulthood. He reminds me too typically when I'm with him, and I grumble but I do it to to make him happy. But I don't care about my teeth or my body. It is what it is. Sure, I want to be thinner and have somewhat better teeth, but that requires work. And I don't really feel like putting in the effort.
There's probably some deep, underlying reason for why I'm like this. But I don't want to push into why I am. I'd rather just accept it for what it is and move on. Continue therapy, medication, and school. Hell maybe I'll even be able to get a job again. That would be super helpful. Though I don't know if I can do it. A job and school I mean. I would only have the job as part time of course, but still. It would be nice to be working again though. I miss it. I'd like to work and go to school. As long as I could continue to do well in class and still work. I don't know though. I just put the application in today. The other place never tried to call me again so I gave up on them.
First semester of college is coming to an end in another month. I can hardly believe it. Just four more weeks. A final in at least one class. I know the one class doesn't have one and the other just has a final paper the professor is building up to. I'm not sure about the other class though.
It's all pretty unreal.
That I'm still alive. That I went to the psyche ward for a few days. That I'm a college freshman. That I'm with Kyle Broflovski. That my depression has lessened considerably.
It's all unreal. I can hardly believe it. In fact, I rarely even think about these things. I just take it a day at a time anymore. I try not to think about the future. I try to just think about the current day and maybe a day or two ahead but that's it. Life just is.'
And with that, Pete puts his pen down and pushes away from his desk. He stands and takes a cigarette from the pack beside the notebook. He walks to the window and opens it so he can lean out before lighting his cigarette. He smokes as he gazes out the window. It was a warmer day, spring has arrived, bringing plenty of rain and turning the remaining snow to slush. Life is good. Why question it?
