Mornings are tough

It’s 10 a.m. I’m up–so there’s that. I’m drinking coffee–more than I should–but I’m doing something. So there’s that, too.

But I’d rather sleep. Or just stay the fuck in bed in the fetal position.

Yes, this is one of those mornings when I’m just going through the motions. I have a lot of these. I should be working right now. I have a deadline this morning on a writing project. Do I care? Not really.

I keep thinking about a conversation I had with a friend last night. He meant to cheer me up, but he actually depressed me. It wasn’t his fault. He just casually mentioned that he’s traveling a lot this summer, getting invited to really nice places. It made me thinkĀ of several other friends who are also getting invited to really nice places. And then I realized that very few people invite me anywhere. Even when they do, I often decline. I have agoraphobia and social anxiety, and even people I love are not immune to it. It sucks.

But I will plow on. I know many others who have depression hate mornings just as much–if not more–than I do. Here’s hoping we can all hate mornings together. The afternoon will come soon enough.


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