I am so tempted to do the Blog Your Novel thing this year. Not that I have any real ideas, mind you, but sometimes that doesn't stop me. You only have to do 50k words.

Lately just managing a 200 word blog post is a challenge. I do not know what is wrong with me in these last few months. I haven't had any ideas really take hold for literally months. I need to be writing. It's just not working. At least with the Blog Your Novel thing I'd have to post every day or every other day. I'd have a schedule to keep to, never mind if the story's bad.

The long and short of it is, I'm depressed again. I'm always depressed to one extent or another, but this aimlessness and emptyness has gone on for literally months. I know I should go to the doctor and ask for anti-depressants but to be quite honest I'd rather slit my wrists than be on the damned drugs again. They don't solve anybody's problems. All they do is get you doped to the gills. It's not real. The state of mind they produce is just as much an illusion as a heroin addict's high or an LSD trip. Because basically that's what it is. An artificially-induced serotonin high. To my mind there's no substantive difference between the SSRIs and some raver kid on Ecstasy.

The long and short of it is, I'm trapped in a life I can't stand and there's no way out. I'm not capable of the life I want and never will be. Whatever talents I have as a writer are not exceptional. I'm not capable of normal human relationships. Every relationship I've ever had has screwed me over, turned sour, or died. The profession in which I want to spend my life is becoming obsolete. My life has no meaning, no purpose, and no future. I see no reason to go on. More and more I wonder why I go on. What's the point in it? From where I stand there is none.

I'm just going through the motions. That's not living.