No matter what the object is, obsessing hurts.   Your head feels like it's too full.  Even when closed, your eyes dart around, trying to focus on something.  You feel disconnected from the people around you.  Laundry feels like absolutely the most pointless activity in the existence of mankind (well, laundry usually feels like that regardless of your mental state).



And it doesn't matter if the obsession is about something ordinarily pleasant, like a daydream or story or a real-life…

My brain does this thing where it likes to take my life's goodness and connect it via an intricate mental spiderweb to sin, evil, and damnation.  At least, that's the way I view it some of the time.  The rest of the time, I view it as my brain Discovering The Truth saving me from possible destruction.  Either way, it's a hard way to live.  The world has a tendency to grow smaller when your brain's favorite hobby is "Find the Contaminating Evil in Life!" 



It seems to get worse when…

I mentioned this as a comment on someone else's blog.  Daydreaming is strangling the life out of my creativity.  I paint, I draw, I write, I cook, and I even used to sculpt.  The stories I write are so different from the daydreams I create.  The former is art (I'd like to think); the latter is soap opera.  It's junk food.  And when all you eat is junk food, all you crave is junk food.  You lose your energy, you become sluggish, you know you need to eat some asparagus, but instead you devour…

I think I could quit this whole daydreaming thing.  I've quit it before.  Well, sort of.  I had one foot in the wagon and one off, and performed awkward jumping jacks in that position.   



But I'm scared.  



There are three poles in my existence, and I pinball from one to the other: anxiety, depression, and daydreams. Anxiety scares me out of the daydreams.  Sometimes the anxiety feels like a savior, because it feels good to care about other people. 



But right…