There are the days when I'm too miserable and apathetic to want to type anything, and then there are the days when I've been going nonstop for sixteen hours and I'm too exhausted and starving to want to type anything. Today was of the latter variety, and I did a lot of stuff and made some decent progress on a linoleum cut and a piece of sculpture homework. But whichever way it works out, the result is that I don't have a damned thing to say.
Maybe I'm done keeping a journal for a while. I started posting things online because of Jeremy, and then continued because I found it useful in various ways. For a while, I think it made my life more interesting, because I felt a certain obligation to go out and do stuff that would be worth writing about. But school just keeps on being school, and I don't do anything interesting, and I'm sick of the endless repetitions of how tired and frustrated and hungry I always am. I still have nightmares about Jeremy, whether I'm writing them down or not, so it doesn't particularly seem to be any good as therapy.
On the other hand, I've had these sorts of slumps before, where nothing seemed worth remembering or talking about, and where I just wanted to go into hiding. Maybe eventually I'll do something interesting again, and want to post about it.
In the meantime, I will mentally fill in all my future days with ditto marks.