I didn't sleep at all last night and haven't taken any naps. I'm just running on my provigil and some L-phenalymine. Just one cup of coffee makes me too jittery that it's uncomfortable so I'm giving up on that, at least to keep me awake. It doesn't work that well.
Last night I just cried and felt bad for several hours and tried to sleep, but just couldn't. I guess my mind is still elsewhere, it seems like it will always be this way. Whenever I lose something, real, imaginary, conceptual, or whatever, it takes me years to get over it. The last time I had to get over something this bad took me 3 years and I never thought I'd feel any differently. After the one year mark you kind of just accept it and you get so used to the crying and self-abuse that it's habit, and it's the only thing that keeps you from falling deeper into despair.

"The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free ..."
-- (Satan) Paradise Lost (bk. I), John Milton

I'm fucking depressed and I'm rereading Paradise Lost online. I did a term paper way back in college on Milton's own personal tragedies and how his losses made Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained such beautiful emotional epics. Sigh. I was depressed then too and dropped out later after trying to kill myself, I just couldn't get the energy to wake up and go to classes again.