The world feels tight around my jaw. It's a wierd sensation, of wrongness, the line between inside/outside blurred, I'm not sure if it's my brain that's fucked, or just my eyes.

OK, so it's a little of both, and I'm just being melodramatic. I'm surpirsed I'm not more emotional, given the neurochemcial rollercoaster ride I've placed myself upon. The age old question, how much of the mind is machinery, and how much is the ghost in the machine. Taking anti-depressants makes one think about that sorta thing often though. How does a little pill make me "happy", or atleast not as depressed, one asks oneself. When they work, you can't help but wonder, how much of me is left, when these pills are done. Is there any point in being myself, if the only society-acceptable-me is the one on pills.

I'm tired. And I don't think it has anything to do with sleep/not-sleep. It's the tired that comes from looking stress straight in the eye, and saying "screw this, I'm a going home". It's the driving at 80 down the highway, and realizing you're so lost in thought, you're prolly unsafe at 25.

I hope my mother enjoyed her mother's day.