I'm dreary and lack energy to focus on any one activity for longer than 15 minutes. My hands feel heavier than normal. A lift of a finger is strenuous, so my fingers glide across the keyboard as I write this. I have a good life. I have a loving family. And I hate myself for being in this emotional and physical state despite my blessings. I feel guilty, and that adds on more weight. This luggage needs to be unloaded somehow and somewhere. I am now trying different methods to alleviate my pain. An hour ago, I tried playing a computer game, but even that couldn't hold my attention for half an hour. I tried playing music, but each sound I produced sounded harsh and brittle to a fault. Anxiety inducing thoughts cross my mind constantly and I combat them with the voice and insights of Alan Watts, remembering my place and relationship with the Universe. It soothes my mind knowing something as godly as celestial bodies have imperfections. I am tranquil when I remind myself not a single person is scrupulously observing every action I make. In this cramp yet spacious room, I feel safe yet imprisoned. Next on the list is a nap.