Revisiting depression. It's not wanting to be labeled as depressed, because maybe I'm laying it on too thick. Maybe I'm self-pitying, maybe I'm trying to get too much sympathy. Yeah, maybe I am. Because I'm down and lonely, and sympathy would feel fucking good. So should I be angry instead? Yes. A bit of righteous anger. Not rage or vengeance, just the beautifuk burn of purifying motivating anger. Sparkling like a gem. 

Ok, I do see why anxiety is my actual diagnosis. But when do i say enough, i gotta feel afraid and do what i need to do in spite of it. Or better, when do i not experience such absolute terror?  When do i not let the fear be my excuse for everything?