Superbad was... superficial. That's all I can say about it, really. It was pretty funny, but it was also extraordinarily shallow. I can't imagine living the sort of empty existence where alcohol, house parties, and completely unemotional sex ruled my life. Of course, my own existence is not really that much more fulfilling, so who am I fucking kidding here. I'd so get plastered just to forget about this shit, and I've done so in the past. Actually, the movie made me want to get plastered again so I can forget about my goddamned life for a little while.

I don't know what the fuck is going on with me lately, or what to do about it. I think I'm getting depressed again, but I don't even know why, let alone how to fix it. My weight is somewhat stable, at least for now, but I feel like my eating has been shit -- completely inconsistent and often terrible. Half the time I don't even like food, don't want to eat it at all, but then there are many occasions where I eat far beyond comfortable satiety, and I end up feeling packed full and guilty and generally disgusting.

My psychologist doesn't help me at all, and the appointments are a load of bullshit that usually make me feel better temporarily, but don't really help in the long run. I don't want to switch AGAIN, though, because that's too exhausting and I'm sick and fucking tired of getting bounced from psychologist to psychologist. The whole thing is a crock of shit, and I want OUT. That being said, though, I don't know if I actually can stay out indefinitely without feeling like... well, like this. Depressed and hating my life and not knowing what the fuck to do about it. So I might make an appointment anyway, and plan what I'm going to say in advance, and then actually SAY IT. Because I get in there, and the fact that she's nice erases any remote traces of assertiveness I might have had before going there, and I get all passive and more interested in having her not hate me than in telling her what I actually think. And what I actually think often isn't very nice, or very tactful, but I don't know how else to say it and still get across what I need to, so usually it just gets wiped out of my head as I try to subliminate how horrible I really am. But I can't do that again. I CAN'T. And yet I may end up doing it, and therefore waste more of my own time, more of my own life, wallowing in this crap in my own head.

I still don't understand why the fuck this shit had to happen to me.

Please note: I am not asking you for sensible, rational, common sense answers. I am sick of fucking common sense. If it was a matter of common sense IT WOULD BE FIXED BY NOW. It is clearly not even remotely fixed, so it clearly has nothing to do with common sense at all. So please refrain from making so-called helpful "constructive" suggestions.