Feeling pretty Red, the pretty kind

I am making my "Fuck a bunch of this, I'm curling up on the couch and performing standard cerebral palsy physical therapy until my body starts working as properly as this body can again..." facial expression.
I did my very best to organize the bathroom and bedroom and to clean up the living room and kitchen - which, for able-bodied people who judge what I do, means I probably barely did anything to make any visible difference, because I tend to fuck everything up, since all my perceptions are screwy. But that just means I need to take more time, more effort, and more energy. I am a horrible housewife and I know it. But I really want to do my best, even if my best means next to nothing.
Why yes, I am in a depressive state and honestly believe I am useless right now. Yay me.
And now I am burning all over and also fading all over and also spasming with tremors all over. Doing things is hard. And so, it is time to rest and see what simple things I can prepare for dinner. Perhaps a salad.

Why is it that red toned lipstick seems to help boost confidence, beauty, self appeal, and self esteem? I may be in a depressive state in which I feel useless, pointless, fucked up, and stupid, but I just applied a few swipes of Pretty Woman by It Cosmetics (deep dark cherry cocoa red) and I feel very slightly better about myself. Or maybe my give a fuck switch got turned off. Or maybe it is all an illusion, and as long as I keep it up, I will eventually climb out of the depression. In any case, red lipstick helps. (also pink and berry, but mainly dark red with pink, berry, and brown tones. Pretty Woman is my favorite for lots of reasons.)
Never mind. This is just a nonsense ramble at this point. Sorry.


https://www.itcosmetics.com/node/628

http://olfactoria.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/cherries.jpg

Also, I love cherries.

On On On Cried The Leaders In The Back

*teeth grind*
I try to be okay. I always try.
This time I just cannot make the thoughts leave. I've mentally tried screaming, pleading, cajoling, forcing, threatening, crying. They don't fucking care. They get louder and louder and they laugh and troll and tell me what a terrible human I am and how nothing I do will ever matter because in the end I will always screw things up, even though I have an actual excuse that includes various disabilities. The depression doesn't care. The depression insists that everything is my fault and always will be, and smacks me in the face with the trolling insistence that nobody loves me for who I am, only for what I can give them.
Internet trolls have absolutely nothing on clinical major depression.

I hate it.

Fuck depression.

I will now do everything I possibly can to fight, fight hard, but I am weak and losing spears and I just want to sleep for days and not care. But I have animals to care for and promises to keep and a life to live and loves to love. So fuck you, depression trolls. You cannot take me. Get the fuck out.

Joanna The Sicilian Greek Russian Romanian Hungarian Warrior Princess commands it.

I hope it works. Please let it work. Dear Cosmic Interdimensional Entities in this Universe and other Universes, if you can hear me, give me some sort of strength, because I am thisclose to falling down.

Thank you, New Model Army. Thank you, Justin Sullivan.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oV8af21GusA (The Charge
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyr8aiGUlzc (Vagabonds)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPIPTR3Z5Vc (Wonderful Way To Go)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4xg9NwCg80 (Rivers plus Orange Tree Roads)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcLdXSkm5uE (Ballad Of Bodmin Pil)