"Mélancholie" by Jean-Jacques Henner

I'd just like to make a general observation about life here:

PMS sucks.

(If you're a guy: It's safe to keep reading, none of this is gross or anything.)

All day today, I've been going from dancing and singing little chants around the house to throwing things in frustration, to sporadic sobbing. Seriously. My mom used to say, "When Ashley's up, she's up, and when she's down, she's on the floor." She had no idea. When I feel depressed, I lay on my back in the middle of my bedroom floor, stare at the ceiling, and think about how pointless life/existence is. Seriously. It's not cool.

There's a CD I've been listening to all week with no probs, and today, it made me cry. Everything was really irritating and annoying, people seemed really mean and irrational, and I was riddled with guilt. And that's only part of it.

I cleaned my room today. Usually, that would thrill me. And Chris got my soundcard to work, so I can play music and CDs and DVDs on my computer, and that should make me ecstatic, too. Instead, I just spent ten minutes staring at the ceiling and wondering why we have life if death is so much better.

This majorly sucks.

"Ophelia" by John William Waterhouse