A day in my life

[Prudence]

The joy of having a slight mood disorder is that one is never quite sure if one's feelings are really one's feelings. The slightness of the disorder ensures that all output is within the bounds of "normal" expression. And yet, one wonders.

Am I no longer enaging in activities that used to bring pleasure because I'm momentarily bored with them? Or am I in another depression?

Am I tired because I only get 4 hours sleep a night? Or are my serotonin levels out of balance?

Am I just going through a period of prolonged stress and conflict? Or am I chronically unhappy because of brain chemistry?

Is the unremitting guilt I feel a fitting punishment for my failure to live up to my potential and my general unsuitability as a human being? And if I seek medical attention again, will I be escaping my duly assigned punishment? A psyche jailbreak?

And is examining any of this giving too much attention to what is an insignificant speck in the sea of humanity?

I don't even know what my own thoughts are. Every feeling, every reaction questioned. Am I showing signs again? Am I in trouble? When is unhappy just unhappy, and when is it....more?

One more day, I tell myself. One more day. Perhaps tomorrow life will be worth living and I will be worth life.