Okay. So. I’m still here.
The much-heralded return of Hyperbole and a Half has been resonating deeply with me. The “fog of depression and things just generally seeming like a pile of dicks” part, not the “coming back after a long hiatus to universal rejoicing” part. It’s hard to motivate yourself to write when not only are you too anxious to believe you have anything worthwhile to say, but you’re also so apathetic and generally irritable that you’re not so sure anyone else does either.
I started my first “real” blog ten years ago this past fall (after a couple of brief toe-dips into the world of Diaryland, which is apparently still a thing, bless their hearts). At fifteen I was not yet self-aware enough to realize that melodramatic play-by-play accounts of high school activities are of interest to very few people, but I miss the rush of sitting at the public library frantically typing against the clock, trying to get everything out of me and onto the screen before the parent who had us that day would come to pick me up. It was an exorcism of sorts.
Now my head is cluttered with ghosts.
Also, cat anecdotes and boner jokes. (Not related!)
I have ideas, and the amount of sunlight these days is helping to nudge me closer to normal functioning. Time for a sequence of posts that don’t contain apologies for not posting more often, because that is bullshit and no one cares.