I wonder what the hell I'm doing here.

Not here in this universe, in this life, or in this screwed up head. Those questions are better left to the philosophers and psychiatrists.

What I wonder is what the hell I'm doing sitting in this chair, writing in this 'blog.

It's not even a 'blog at all is it? Nope, it's an online journal. Completely different, but I didn't know. And it's too late to change now.

But I digress.

What is it that makes me want to sit here in this chair and write out my innermost feelings and my most mundane activities for all the world to see? Why, even during times like this - times when I'd just as soon dig myself a nice deep hole to sit and cry in, why do I instead choose to sit in this chair and type?

I don't know why I have to do this. I just know that I do.

I once again find myself at the center of a whirlwind of emotions, grabbing desperately, trying to pull these feelings in.

This is not the entry I had in my head.

I'm actually in a good mood. I mean, I'm depressed as shit, but I'm kind of happy about it. Not that I expect that to make any sense.

Maybe to at least one person out there, it will make sense.

Maybe that's why I'm sitting in this chair.