How much do you have to feel depressed so you find yourself, on saturday evening, smoking and silently crying before your window, staring at the mountain so far away, and thinking there isn't a thing that could enjoy you at the moment?
How much, when you can't find a person you can talk with?
Well, I have some friends that really would hear my bad mood and would pat me on my shoulder. They are so nice to me, I know I could speak with some of them, but, hell, it's saturday evening, I can't harass them with my sinking. I have to find something other to cheer me up. A little.
I need just a little little.
I can't hear music, too, because right now all kind of music makes me even more sad.
It's a strange thing, I'd be curious to know if someone feel the same: when I'm sad, just as I am, all kind of music seems sorrowful to me. The same music, If I am cheerful, I can hear it and enjoy it: also the sadder song on this earth.
So, silence now. I don't need something adding my grief.
So, I tried to fix my Livejournal page. Now it's working slightly better, at least you can see all the posts, but it seems it's impossible to add a view-counter to this layout. It doesn't include a space to insert an html code. It worked with the first layout, the orange-blue one, but my mood is too much gloomy and I want only black and grey right now. It was nice to see where were my few readers from.
I had someone from Argentina that almost daily watched my page, and I haven't a clue who he/she is. I'm missing it.
And I can't change the title of my friends page. I don't know why. I wrote the title in the right space but it wouldn't do.
Today I bought a new digital camera. So now in my house you can count five cameras (among reflex and digital).
The new one is very little, quite compact, and I think it could be the one I can always bring with me in my handbag. That was the point of buying it.
So why can't I enjoy it?
I know why, but I can't speak about it.
A book. I think a good novel should cheer me up a little. It always worked for me. I just ended reading "Bet me" by Jennifer Crusie, and it did it. The book was so nice it could divert my attention from my sadness. But now I have to choice a new novel and I am not even able to think about what book I feel like reading.
So, I went to livejournal and settled about harassing the world wide web and using it as a real diary. Hoping no one that knows me in real life will read it, but someone who knows me on the web could read it. Or not. I really don't care at the moment, but so I got to write, and I'm just feeling a little better.
Just a little little.
My life is really a mess.
Maybe this night I'll be hunting for memes, and quizzes, and silly things I can put on my page.