I feel depressed. It’s annoying. I feel like I should be in a good mood, because things are going fine. Better than fine. Last night was the Oakland Queer Open Mic. It was a really good event, and I played two songs and read a short except of one of my essays. I’ll be back next week as a featured artist, reading, selling, and signing my books.

In a couple days, I’ll be a featured reader at the San Francisco Queer Open Mic. I’ve wanted to do this for a while.

For some reason, no matter how many events I do or things I publish or whatever, I feel disconnected and empty.

I’m traveling. I have a great boyfriend. I have great cats. My books are being read. I’m not stuck in Syracuse. I take antidepressants. Why aren’t I happy?

Sorry, I suppose it would be more interesting to hear something else. But this is how I currently feel. I’m trying to get through it anyway and do things to take care of myself. It’s funny, when I don’t have any readings going on, I feel unsuccessful and mopey. When I do, I feel like I just gotta get through them.

I’m going to try to fix this. I need to look at what I’ve done in the past and apply it to the present. Otherwise this just spirals.

It’s difficult.

Until next week. Hopefully I cheer up. Meanwhile, we’re still in Manteca, at the RV park. I’m going to try to seriously work on fixing this negative thinking in the morning. I want to be more open to people. I just don’t honestly know how. Even if I see people and try to socialize, there’s this wall. I need to examine that.