So now it's official

Well, I've just taken my first Fluoxetine 20mg tablet, and like all young officially depressed people, it's time to start my live journal I think.

I'm not normally one to wallow in self pity, so I wont even bother. Instead, I'll wallow in the sugar rush I'm having from my Fanta Fruit Twist. Mmm, so artificial. Can't even begin to tell what vaguely orange-colored fruit it's supposed to be based on. Cadbury Flake to accompany. So crumbly, so intoxicating. I feel like an 80's rock chick about to have a long bath. With a lizard.

*pokes tongue out, resting the phallic chocolate on his tongue lightly, letting it melt over his tastebuds*

Chocolate should be on prescription. For all things. Depression, sexual malfunction. Mark my words, Cadbury Flakes solve a lot of ills.

What can I say about myself briefly then, as a summary before I start blabbering properly? 25, male in body, at least partially female in mindset, probably somewhat gay (I blame watching He-Man as a child), vast collector of music, addicted to cyber-cuddles. Yeah, that's about right. Could do with losing a few pounds, but then, couldnt we all.

I'm staring at a sandwich. Brian Turner's Chicken and Bacon Club Class Sandwich. Did Brian Turner have anything to do with the creation of this meaty mayonnaise-drenched treat? Unlikely, and I feel exploited as a result. Strangely, I have no intention of eating it. Depression does that to the appetite. Or it might just be that the last one I had was dry as buggery.

I have an intense desire for icecream. But then, I always have that, and it always ends in pain.