It's a week night and I'm up late. In a lot of ways, this is a very good thing. I'm a night owl, after all, and a diurnal schedule causes me extreme emotional, mental, and physical distress. So, it's two o'clock on a Tuesday morning, and it's officially summer - I'm out of school personally and professionally, and the solstice has passed. There are a few landmark moments of summer that I haven't hit yet, things that make me happy - popsicles, incredibly hot nights, that sort of thing - but generally, it's summer.

It's a mixed bag, though, summer - more time means less structure, and I'm not much of one for self-motivating. I'm planning on calling a therapist tomorrow, making an appointment; I'm on the verge of a self-fulfilling prophecy here regarding my fears of depression during unstructured time. I'm causing myself anxiety because of it, and what good does that do? Every time I sleep *enough* I feel bad, because sleep = depression, in my mind.

This could explain why I've averaged roughly 4.5 hours of sleep a night for the past year. Sub-manic energy and a panic-level fear of apathy, lethargy, will apparently keep me going far past normal limits of personal endurance.

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