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I felt happy today. Yesterday, too, though not as much as today. I kept marveling about it. I suppose I still am, to some extent. What is with this ridiculous happiness with no obvious source? I still have a lot of work, and I'm still keeping up all right. Am I just getting used to it? Or is it that I don't care as much?

Perhaps the work was never the source of my unhappiness at all. Or at least, not the only one.

Maybe I'm finally getting over the last boyfriend, to some extent. I can think about him some without it feeling like being stabbed. Twinges of regret and anger still, but that's it. Yes, that probably helps quite a bit.

Maybe having a social life is a good thing for my mental health. I went to my local games shop to play games and to a birthday party this weekend. I had fun, I talked to people. Though.. I suppose there must be at least somewhat less work. I couldn't have done that the weekend before.

Less work, less obsession, more socializing. I guess it's not completely baseless. X)