Feelings of dread. Not the same as feeling dreadful.

I love words. Thinking about meanings. Considering past meanings.

But right now I just don’t care.

I am stuck with terrible feelings of dread and it’s going on and on and on. Feelings of impending doom. Thoughts about imminent death. My mind can’t take much more.

So I thought I’d write about it. Try to put the beast to bed.

I’ve felt unwell for a few days. Unwell in body, restless in mind. But so weary as well. I thought I was in Shutdown yesterday. Although I was so tired I couldn’t rest and this morning I was awake, mind churning, at 6. I’m also tearful, so on the verge of crying that I fear the smallest incidence would catch me off guard and set the tears falling.

To counterbalance all this I’ve tried to keep busy. Reading, writing my journal, pottering in the garden, working at the computer. But it’s all so half-hearted that I move on before I’ve finished a task. Fifteen minutes here, thirty minutes there, five minutes, and so on. Unsatisfactory and unsatisfying. I don’t impress myself. Not one iota.

Often in these situations – and this is certainly not the first so I know it won’t be the last – I watch a film, a thriller – maybe sci-fi maybe horror. Anything that I wouldn’t generally watch and that would keep me away from my real world.

I have heard others on the spectrum talking about liking horror and sci-fi. Is it for the same reasons? Is it a means to escape from the horror and fantasy of this world? That needs looking into. But, quick frankly, I really can’t be bothered.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.