I feel like the undead.

Usually, depression reeks of either no motivation to become happy, a poor chemical balance in the brain [mostly caused by not eating right, a lack of exercise or not enough sleep], or, of course, actually having a reason to be depressed. I'm not sure which to blame for my current state of mind, but right now all I feel like doing is sitting beneath my ceiling with screamo music in my ears using up as much oxygen as possible because that's the only function I feel capable of performing right now. I hate that I realize it's nothing. I almost wish I was blissfully ignorant of all things in relation to moods and teenagers and thought I was some sort of naturally cool emo kid incapable of being happy, who should squeeze herself into skinny jeans and dye her hair to express herself. But no. I realize that it'll pass, and next week I will be the upbeat, smart sixteen-year-old in the ponytail who survived a pointless mood-swing. Until then, however, I must endure being the angry, listless minor with a chemical imbalance.