I just wrote something terribly enlightened and cathartic about anxiety attacks and depression, but the reality is that I’m just bored here. The illusion of tension wells up from the fact that I am constrained to look busy, and the companion fact that I feel horribly guilty for doing so little.
No… that’s actually not an illusion. I am really stressed by all of that. What a waste! I could be labouring stressfully at some task which was actually useful to someone. Or I could be doing nothing much more efficiently asleep in my bed. I could even be doing something constructive and pleasant, like exercising, or doing some task that I actually enjoy, like tinkering with images or building a Linux box…
No, I think I’ll just sit here and freak out some more, to no purpose. Yep, uh-huh.

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