Were I asked by another to describe my current mood in a word, it would be the title of this thread. Essentially, all I've done for Christmas break is wallow in a pool of lethargy. I've used sleep as an escape from the loneliness and misery, eaten at least double my weight in food out of sheer boredom (which will do wonders for the issues I have with my weight and the low ["non-existent" would be more apt a term] self-esteem spawned of said issues), irresponsibly procrastinated on finishing up a short story that was due for my English class three school days before Christmas break started, and stood up the only real-life friend I have today because I felt too terrible to get out of the house.

I really don't know why I'm this depressed about something that's been totality of my existence for almost four years, though. This is really all I ever do. As I only have that one aforementioned friend whom I very seldom see, I come home from school--a miserable, lonesome experience in its own right, stare at my computer and listen to music for hours on end, reluctantly clean my refrigerator of its contents out of boredom, go to sleep, and repeat the whole miserable process come morning. I really should have acclimated to the emptiness that is my existence by now (it has been four years), but...I haven't. It still makes me want to curl up in a corner and cry my eyes out.

That's the worst thing, too: the cycle's self-perpetuating. Sleeping is my escape; it grants me the opportunity to dream about how things could be. It grants me the opportunity to dream that I have friends, a significant other whom I love and loves me back, am supported by, and can be intimate with (the lack of this kill me more than anything ), that I have a family who cares about me, that I'm not so alone, and that my existence is more than just an endless, pathetic grind. However, sleep's also something of a drug in that it offers me an illusory, temporary high, when in reality, it only serves to reinforce the chains of lethargy that bind me to the status quo.

I can never seem to break those chains. Even if I could somehow self-motivate and do so, I'd still be alone in the utmost sense of the word.

Huh. Writing this, or thinking about it, rather, has really made me want to cry, and I haven't cried in a while... I just wish I wasn't so alone all the time. I wish somebody loved me... I'm not so cynical that I'll say the day I find meaningful connection with another human being will never come (though that sure as hell looks probable), but until then, those who care about me will just have to exist in my dreams--as they have for so long.