The crisis I mentioned a few pages back intermingled with my OCD and man alive, I got ugly. My panic attacks worsened, I repeatedly indulged compulsions to look at things which I knew would upset me (but perversely made me feel briefly better, a sort of weird masochism), and culminated in a giant discussion I found somewhere I can’t even remember about free will vs. God’s omnipotence. You know, I have nuts and bolts problems in my life: a job I’m not satisfied with, sexual dissatisfaction, anxiety and depression, and lots of other things. I really don’t be to be having fucking panic attacks about fucking cosmological problems, but here I am. I need a shrink, but I don’t think that a shrink will be able to help me with the meaning of life. I work retail, and it’s a holiday this weekend, and this actually started to interfere with my work today, or at least almost. I was able to keep it under control, but just barely. I want to cry. I have to get up early this weekend, something hard for me at the best of times. And now it feels like my brain is like a car in freewheel with the clutch out, and I’m not sure if this is repairable. This is just fucking hell.