Ugh.

I have accomplished literally nothing this week. Not for work, not for play, not outstanding obligations (of which I have several), not spur-of-the-moment fun. The closest I've come to honest-to-god activity is researching the formation and possible configurations of planets in binary star systems, in an effort to do some Gallifrey worldbuilding, but even now I have not come to any headcanon-worthy conclusions. I feel like a goddamn parasite. At this point I am not even sure whether I am useless and self-hating due to a swing back towards depression, or whether I just feel shitty and hate myself because I've been so fucking useless. I mean, for fuck's sake, I can't even muster the spirits to be arch and self-deprecatingly witty about my own foul mood. Sorry, f-list. Looks like this entry is going to be a complete waste of space as well.

ETA: Physical symptoms + quick glance at calendar suggest that the foul mood at least might be hormonal; I get horrible self-hatey PMS and never seem to realize that's what's going on until I've spent a day beating myself up. None of which explains why I have been in "struggle to get out of bed, zombie-walk through rest of day" mode for a while now.