depressions should occur less frequently during summer. am i to blame the shitty wheather, then? finding myself plunging deeper into some kind of an abyss. i'm hot and cold, writign cliches at Bloomsbury. my limbs are slow, my spirit weak. i dreamt about the Wailing Wall last night.
maybe some illicit doing can lift me up, but i feel like nothing.
and yeah. is it all about old complexes, resurfacing? T. is in town, passing briefly for a few hours. as usual, her mere presence is enough to cause anxiety. not that there's any reason: T. is my girl's best friend, that's it. it's the range of inferiorities i feel when they're together. why, i wonder, doesn't it mount up to a simple dislike. it would have been much easier. but it doesn't.