I live in a sort of charity house where everyone is required to contribute to the household and do chores. I'm....really lazy about mine, partly because I don't want anyone around when I do them, but also just because I spend all my time in my room when I'm at home. We have a rule against eating in our rooms, but I do it anyway because I have no desire to sit in a public space at home and eat (eating out is something else altogether. In fact, I've been buying food and eating at the little cafe area at the grocery store because it's better than sitting at the so-called dining room at home).

Well, my landlady, who gives me a reprimand every week about these habits, finally asked me if I need mental help. I probably should have felt something, but didn't. She asked me if I've been abused or hurt, or if this kind of isolation was just my personality. I answered that I'd always been like this - she wants me to go to psych help, and is considering finding me a case manager. She had considered kicking me out for my rule-breaking, but believes there's something wrong. I Was supposed to go to mental health today, but I get there and there's a sign on the door saying that the mental health office is closed today.

And all this happens after I woke up and cried at 5:30am for no specific reason other than some racing thoughts.

Look at that. I'm a true crazie now.