After Christmas Shittiness

Had a nice holiday, though so many of the family were sick (myself included). Now to tackle the feat of making it through the rest of winter. The endless stretch of cold and dark. After Christmas, all I want to do is curl up in bed or drink. Or curl up in bed AND drink. I've got kids constantly yakking in my ear so I can't form a fucking thought. I used to write poetry when I was down. It was depressing and angsty poetry, but it felt good to create something that represented the shit that I was feeling. Hell if I can do that with Spongebob Fucking Squarepants blasting on the TV.

All I want is Southern Comfort and nachos and to watch back to back episodes of Sherlock by myself. Followed by typing out drunken poetry while listening to the Doors. Maybe light some incense. The only way I get over depression is by wallowing in it. Roboting through it all and pretending it's all okay is not helping. I want to open the front door and scream.