I've not been here for a while, to this site. I don't know when it all changed but it's fancy. I like it. I just kind of need somewhere to write really, I remember writing a lot on here years ago. It seemed to help with whatever it was that was bothering me. Which was good. Morbid fascinations with death and substance issues aside, I've not been doing badly. Hence not being here for years. I'M STILL ALIVE! Yeah, fuck you statistics. :single_eye: I do get alarmed at my many moods and traits though, still. At the minute I'm a recluse more than anything else. Actual contact involving interaction with people doesn't seem to go too well, ever. I don't know if I will ever be bothered enough to change this, as it has always been the case to some degree. I seem to fixate on things. No idea why really. I am irresponsible. Even though I'm in my thirties I can still spontaneously decide to take a box of painkillers, just because, or walk out on a job 3 days early purely to sabotage my good reference. Both of those things happening this week. Not too sure why I'm still a self-saboteur after learning so many lessons about it in the past, but hey! I'm still "depressed". God I hate that term. But I cannot for the life of me think of a better one, and for that I blame society. Seriously, you can type in any number of words into google and diagnose yourself yet here I am falling back on "depressed". Yeah, "depressed (with strong self abusive tendencies. Passive/aggression, binging and purging, the occasional delusion of grandeur but yeah, mostly just "depressed"). Stupid, mostly just stupid really. I have what is probably a major family event coming up. My sister's wedding (are they still major events?) It'll be good, it'll be a party of sorts and the occasional party is fine with me as long as I don't have to stay sober, riight? This is mostly, to be fair, pretty inane stuff. Stuff that happens all the time to people across the world. I'll attempt a Limerick. Screw it. There once was a boy from the outskirts of Hell He grew up to be sick, he never looked well Sick of people asking "are you alright?" He retreated into the night, turned his bedroom into a cell There you go, a depressive recluse doing an Irish jig. I am glad this place still exists though.