Caused my commute to terminate at Canal Street when I was already running late (by my sstandards being less than an hour early is late). It should not have such an effect on me but I am shaking and took another 1mg of the panic pill to settle down. Waited what felt like a very long time for an R train, which gets me to the exact same spot as the W would have, but the disruption caused me more agita than expected. I didn’t think this kind of shit happened anymore. I also had issues with breakfast and a gift card I thought had $15 on it but it only had $3.27. I only just happened to have cash on hand to cover the difference, though I guess the palce would have taken credit card. I don’t know. I feel agitated and unsoothable. Went from feeling good to not wanting to be alive. I felt fine. Good, even. I keep feeling it rise up. A bitterness. Is it salvable? An ugliness, blackening itself with common dismay. I’ve stopped shaking so uch, at least. I hope the sick passenger at Whitehall is doing better. This matter of redirecting or cancelling subway lines for sick passengers is relatively new to the MTA. I want something to make me happy. I want happiness. I am feed up with depression and permanent disdain for myself.