bury me in this dress

The gloom of Holy Week is getting to me. That and my fucked up hormones. It’s 6 am and didn’t even get a few minutes of sleep because my mind is playing with me once again. I’ve been mulling about my life and how much of a loser I am. I have nothing to show and be proud of. All of my ambitions never saw daylight because I squashed them early. I don’t know why I do it. I wish I knew so I can work on it.

Even my depression sucks. Maybe I would have more achievements if I were bipolar. But I’m stuck with the staring-into-space-doing-nothing kind of depression. Why didn’t I get the one that Sylvia Plath had? She was able to write moving literary pieces BECAUSE of her depression. I wouldn’t want to end up sticking my head in an oven but even if I did, I won’t have any legacy. Nothing to show except this crap of a blog. No awards, citations, or any kind of achievement. My work with ISAA is almost non-existent. If Allen accepted  my resignation before, my successor would probably doing a superb job. Well, ISAA is stuck with me and I pity the organization. They could have gotten someone better.

I hope this funk was just caused by Holy Week. I hate hate hate Holy Week. I’m not a Catholic but I’m forced to observe it because this country is predominantly Catholic. I’m not bashing Catholicism here. I just hate being forced into this depressing tradition.