crafty

I cleaned and organized my art room after months of it being a little sad unused mess. I even crafted yesterday. I made a big (lumpy) pillow for the dogs. I didn't realize how hard it is to stuff things, especially big things. Its made out of a green thick textured table cloth and tufted in the center with pale pink button.

As my doctor promised, I have gone from depressed to melancholy in the last week. I'm still struggling with finding joy in life, with the reason I am here. I can't find meaning in things like I used to. I can't find satisfaction in anything; this makes me feel different, this makes me feel alone. I feel strange, uncharted, unlike myself, to blame for this. I feel like my lack of satisfaction is my fault. I feel like I want and ask for too much. Is it too much to ask for meaning? Maybe I will never be full. Maybe I am destined to live like this; a robot, a shiftless sneer-eyed downtrodden woman.