Doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?

Not in a good mood. I'm two glasses of wine, one beer, an ativan, and an ambien into the rest of the night and I'm still horribly depressed. Went to the game tonight; did not enjoy the game in the least. I felt like I was watching a movie of someone else watching a game.

Went to my third successive oncologist today. I actually like this guy and he spent an hour going over symptoms and such with me, rather than Dr. Mei, who was all CANCER CANCER CANCER and Dr. Miller who totally ruled it out before any tests. This guy was concerned about my recent cough, as well as the shortness of breath (and I know I'm not that out of shape that I should get winded talking or walking up some stairs), but was not totally ready to hand me down the sentence of the big C. Lung cancer is unusual at 22, but not unheard of and he felt he'd rather totally rule it out than leave anything to chance.

I have to have more blood draws on Monday, as well as the therapist appointment and I need to call stupid, fucking Massasoit to see if my appeal got through and I can register for classes or what. More depression shit.

I swear to god, I'm moving to Rhode Island as soon as I can get a job and a place.

Still depressed, still miserable.. I still feel like I'm going to cry again.

Tomorrow should be just as good. We're cleaning the room and draining and moving the waterbed so I can finally have a little change from the way it looked when my ex still lived here. That, and the mess is making me stir-fucking-crazy. I hate living in a mess, but I'm too depressed to clean. Perfect Catch-22.

I'm going to go now and hope that, by the grace of god, I don't bother waking up tomorrow. I don't want to clean.