Holy depression Batman

No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get enthused about anything and I always find myself just on the right side of incredible depression. It's always the small things that keep me from the brink... things like pancake day, and such.

It's just that the crushing routine we all have to play along with in the corporate rat race game makes for a very soul crushing existence. I seem to only live to work and if that's not fulfilling, then what am I living for?

Of course, Catholic guilt is always rearing it's ugly head. I'm barely holding it together, but at least I have both my leg, all my senses, a decent paying job,e tc. So what right do I have to complain to collapse mentally? None. I should, by the book, be a happy chappy. Then why am I not?

I don't recall feeling this desolate when I lived in Toronto. Maybe it's something to do with being back in the UK? The hardships of trying to get ahead in London? Who knows.

I'm always worrying these days - will I have enough money for a downpayment of a flat, will we get broken into while at work, will I ever get rid of those CDs I shouldn't have bought, will I ever find love? All the questions they set up dodgy 0900 numbers for.

I guess the stress of unfulfilled everyday life can take it's toll. There has to be some reason I'm listening to the Manics.