Don't feel like writing today, but I know I should. Started a new job after weeks of stagnation. I know I should be happy that I am making progress, but there's something obstructing my satisfaction. Is it that progress actually causes me grief? I am afraid of progress. I can't quite ascertain the exact cause of my current agony, nor can I summon any detailed articulation that would successfully convey my true feelings; They seem unknown to me and obviously clear at the same time. ... I got on Facebook yesterday for the first time in months. Searching for him felt like I was cautiously looking for Xanax and telling myself, "it's ok, just look for some; maybe you won't find any." Look long enough and you'll always find what you're looking for, whether you want to find it or not. All it took was seeing one picture. I knowingly invited saddens into my mind and basked in the ripple of anxiety expanding across my body. All because of a picture of him?! Why? All of that could have been avoided. It feels like a relapse.