Okay, so I've gotten down and depressed the last couple days or so. And, as always, it's preyed upon my relationship outlook. I miss the old days where I got depressed and felt like dying on the spot.

 

It's not, and never has been, an objectively arguable case, when I think I'm screwing up, under the depressive mindset. I start with the premise that I'm a screwup, and find the evidence to match, ignoring anything that doesn't support my penultimate assumption. Kind of like creation science.

 

So, after crying tonight... and yeah, anybody who reads this and wants to make a big deal about it, talk to me personally, because I've worked out an excellent reason for why I cry over this stuff... I feel as though I'm on the upshot of this whole thing. My current understanding of things is this: I take responsibility for purely random circumstances, i.e. my not being able to hang out with my girlfriend this weekend, or my calling at the wrong time, or any of the multitude of other things I've spotted as "screwups." Granted, I'm sure I *am* screwing up a fair amount of the time, but there are times when I figure that I couldn't reasonably have *not* "screwed up," since circumstances were arranged just so. Besides which, there's always my personal maxim of "always try." There will be other weekends, other phonecalls, et cetera. If I stop trying, that's when I *really* lose, because it reduces the chance of success to nothing.

 

This piss and moan session was going to be substantially longer, when I started, but I ran out of steam about here. Just wish I could stay happy. Things go well, and I've got that peak experiences, being ecstatic for a little while, but after that's done, everything seems worse. And in that space, I do my paranoid little dance, and wonder if there's really no joy in my life. I am an odd duck, crazy for certain.

 

Oh, well. Bother it all, eh? Now I'll just go back to feeling crappy about whatever I set my mind to, and when I get happy again, things will start over.