You know that thing about being depression-prone where happiness feels wrong? That's what I was experiencing on the bus ride home this evening, and I'm just keeping the existential segues at bay. It's cowardly, but it's also pointlessly painful.

I knew meaning and value are subjective, but I guess it hit me full-force just how subjective. Months ago, I felt no drive, no reason to keep going because I could only see shame and misery and hopeless emptiness ahead of me. Right now, I feel motivated to do all kinds of amazing things with my life - though I'm just still aware of that emptiness and self-loathing deep at the bottom of my heart. I doubt it will ever go away. Hell, I was raging so much yesterday, there's no way it's all gone because I got a job offer and might be able to move out soon.

This excitement and drive doesn't feel right. Like any second something awful is going to happen, some philosophical bogeyman is going to devour me, something outside myself is going to overwhelm me again. I actually want to be morose and anxious again. Really I think I'm just emotionally confused at the moment. I'll probably be numb again soon enough.