Ramblings/Interlude

I don’t feel depressed. I don’t think I am depressed. My waking moments are a blur, merely an interlude to my eventual slumber. My sleep, an agonising trudge to wake my mind up. When I am awake, I want to be asleep. When I am asleep, I want to be awake. Even in lethargy, I question my own desires. Thoughts, words, ideas, I start to feel like they are beginning to slip through my mind, like water through a sift. Breathe. Fragility. Thoughts. Motivation. Annoyance. Moments pass by like static on a screen. Foreign. Indescribable. Am I really peeking behind the veil, seeing the futility of existence or am I merely wallowing…