12:16 PM: I still feel a little dead inside. And as if I’m largely a witness to the direction of my life, in spite of goal setting and journaling and all that jazz. It’s as if I exist in a perpetual state of emptiness that is built upon a foundation of non-participatory apathy. But I do shit in this state. Shit I deliberately and explicitly set out to do. I set said shit in motion and then step back and allow myself to be carried by the shit-current.
Maybe that’s not all bad. I certainly don’t feel shitty inside overall. I become angry when sleep deprived, but for the most part I’m more emotionally vacant than volatile.
I consider again the pharmacological intervention I began some months ago [wellbutrin]. Is this better? Objectively, it most certainly is. Subjectively, there is some ambivalence. Is the absence of extreme negative worth the absence of extreme good?
