Mired

I feel like one of the more problematic aspects of depression is that it works like quicksand. This makes it very difficult to get out.
I am getting more and more mired, but not in the traditional way. The last time I was depressed it was a more constant ailment. My current mental state has swung back and forth, with poor me helplessly strapped to the end of the pendulum, clinging for dear life and unable to move. Perhaps this lack of movement will allow me to survive long enough for someone to get me out of the quicksand.
I think this metaphor is getting messy.
Why do people cry when they are upset? I'm sure it's been asked before many times, but for some reason it only just occurred to me tonight. I asked Ilian, and he said that he doesn't think anybody knows. Curious.
An interesting fact: My eyes turn bright sea-green when I cry. I originally thought this was simply a trick of the light, a consequence of contrast with the red eyes that so often accompany tears, but I have found that the color persists when I cry even if my eyes aren't red. So. Something about how the excess water bends the light? I don't know. It looks kind of cool though.
Silver linings, right?
I should go to bed, but I'd like to exhaust my mind first. It has a habit of puttering about when I want it, just for a little while, for once, to just be silent. I can't turn myself off. I know that it has to do with my intelligence, and my mind's own unique way of working, and that, for all it's flaws, that this is part of what makes me interesting, but. Butbutbutbutbut. It is also part of what makes me insane. I'm not saying insane-good or insane-bad. I'm saying mild insanity, with what perks and detriments that entails. I hope it's a good sign, in some way. I've never heard of a sane genius, for example.
I like physical activity. It makes me feel awake, focused. I should try to be more physically active. Then I could be focused more, and then my brain would actually tired by bedtime.
Focus. Beautiful, glorious focus. My elusive holy grail, my cure-all. When I reach it, in those rare moments where it lingers a bit, I feel as if I actually am living, and the rest of the time I have been half-asleep, living in a daze. Bittersweet as fuck.
You've identified your problems Ms. Lerner, as well as the solutions for the majority of them. Why haven't you fixed them yet? Well??
I don't know. I'm sorry. Please stop looking at me. I mean, please, don't go away, I mean, leave me alone, I mean, I mean, I mean, I mean, I mean, I mean.
I don't know. I'm trying though. I swear to God I'm trying.
"Do or do not," says Byron's voice in my ear, "there is no try."
Fuck off.