Dear Diary, 

I feel bad. I'm at the point with my winter depression where it feels like a constant, throbbing ache in my chest, like one of my organs has been removed and the rest of my insides are just pulsing around the gap, creating a weird feeling of pointlessness. I can't sleep without having terrible dreams - not even my usual convoluted, earnest things, but geysers of blood, turmoil, ruin, and frightening things. It's like the smallest stress from my life - a phone call unanswered, an appointment that hasn't been rescheduled, an unresolved conversation, a memory lodges itself in my brain and mutates. Mercury retrograde snaps back into normal and I am left feeling more dislocated than ever, less centered. I had this feeling that things should be resolving and becoming more real to me, not the opposite.