Jacob Lawrence, Depression (1950)

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Still at the root of this listlessness lies ---: ---, always and forever. The sense that nothing in your life has its full meaning, and that no relationship can ever be fully honest or complete.

Empty insides. Sometimes it's hard to find reasons to do anything other than sleep.

There are times when you slip into apathy, a fatality which is crass in comparison with your moralistic sense of purpose. Inability to focus. Aimlessness.

Not eating. Thought of food sickening. Despite hunger I sit doing nothing. Hunger is the cheapest high.

Loneliness, depression. Futility, failure, uselessness, resignation.

Sleep is not my friend.

As so often, so much better by daylight.

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