In another stunning example of my environment matching my life, as I left the dorm after my last post, it was raining.

I was melancholy. In some kind of crazy twist, the likes of which are often seen in my life, my mood served mostly to remind me that I was alive.

I'm still alone. Nothing has changed really, but now somehow, the actual events seem somehow pointless. What remains important is not what happened, but that things did happen. Sometimes it scares me, that deep down, I don't care what happens or what emotions I'm made to feel, but what remains important is the act of feeling them.

The only times that I get truly depressed with the world are when I don't feel anything. If I'm feeling something (be it good or bad), then I feel better than if I didn't feel that thing.

Conclusion: I'm alive. I have returned to the land of the living. I feel somehow charged.