Empty.

Not been great, not been too bad. Coping, I guess.

Anxiety gave me seizures and major breakdowns. Some things resumed in an even bigger disappointing way.

Everything's chaotic and I seem unable to accomplish anything.

Although that's not entirely true. I ended up writing that big thesis I was so affraid of, and I enjoyed it. I now have a master's degree, totally and completely useless, but hey... I made it.

Work has been hell, but wasn't it always?

I feel so empty.

I also read a lot. That is nice.

I kinda need a break.