A little earlier than Christmas, but that's because mum's meeting my sisters for American thanksgiving while I'm getting cabin fever with Dad.
The highlights:
I'm fairly positive I have depression. And that my home is not a safe space. In fact, it's a triggering environment.
...
yeah that's about it.
Wait, don't I usually talk fluff? Yeah, I guess I do. So I'm reading Homestuck and it's a good read. I stopped reading comics.
I think I am unable to be plastic any more and have been eroded and burned to an unrecognisable heap from before. Kinda like a thermoset. It takes more effort to smile, to be socialable and getting remotely excited about anything (which is mostly fandom fluff) leaves me more winded and sighing deeper than before.
I think I've finally run out of steam and residual motion. I can't do anything. Anything remotely productive, positive or worth a damn.