Yet in the early afternoon, I rang my mom and spoke to her for over an hour, and it was a nice conversation. I was vaguely cheerful. By four o' clock every cheerful bit I had left dissipated and I was left world-weary and worn. I broke down.

The day began quite normally. I was rudely awakened at one in the afternoon by someone banging on my door. But when I managed to drag myself out of bed, clothed myself decently (I sleep nude, or partially nude), and answered it, there was only the empty silence of the corridor to greet me. It could have been the neighbour's boyfriend banging on her door instead.

I forgot what I did next. It wasn't terribly important or noteworthy. Then I decided to call my mom.

If you noticed that I did not mention anything about luncheon, you are right. I just did not feel like eating anything at all. My depression had compressed my stomach into nothing.

After the conversation with my mom, I tried to finish my cross-stitch kit. (Incidentally, the project reflects my mood and it is terribly slip-shod work.) I called Paladin because I wanted to get out of my room and window shop, and I needed my debit cards to do so. (I had entrusted them to him because I wanted to kick the habit of spending excessively.)

But he wasn't around. And I didn't even have the option to buy something pretty to cheer me up for a bit. So at six in the evening, I broke down. Literally collapsed on the carpeted floor and wept.

I managed to drag myself out of that catatonic state and changed and fled the oppressive solitude of the room.

I have just returned from Warcraft III. List of items ingested: a can of iced coffee, a museli bar, a Snickers bar and a bottle of strawberry milk. So I did not starve myself, even though, by no standards was it a nutritious meal.

Yes. I know. This entry sounds devastatingly dull. A mere catalogue. A distance placed between the writer and her words. I am just too dispirited to care whether this is accessible, or intelligible, or even sluttishly expands on the feeling of detachment. (I do care, somewhere deep in me, I just cannot feel it emotionally, or I would not be writing this.)

The only highlight (which would have made my day had I been in a mood to care at all) is that I realised someone has a crush on me. How sweet. I can't even summon the energy to feel flattered.

I have two other entries in my head. One about religion, the other about how people demean tools because they are unable to use them. Both are contributing factors to this chill in me. Yet neither is important enough, or painful enough to make me want to rant and rave about it. Yet, last night, I did want to blister the ignorant idiots out there, so much so I turned the notebook on, intending to write. And it weighed heavily on my mind for the entire part of my conscious day.

But right now, I don't care. I just want the cold to end.