Just Me and My Depression, “Living”
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this alone. I’m reaching out to life, to love, to happiness…but nothing seems to be reaching back.
Isaac thought about it and concluded that he couldn’t handle my depression. Guess that makes two of us. So now we are no longer seeing each other. I really liked him; it was a really big disappointment. When talking/crying about it with my mom she said it was okay that it didn’t work out. “It’s understandable that you aren’t ready to jump back into another relationship after what happened with [Fred]. I think anyone else who went through that would feel the same way.” She’s probably right…I wouldn’t be dealing with this if I was completely over being cheated on by Fred. But if I can’t turn to Fred and I can’t turn to Isaac, who can I turn to?
I know, I know….my friends and family. But here’s the thing. My friends and family won’t hold me at night and kiss my hair. They won’t take me in their strong arms and say, “Oh, my [insert name here]…” like Isaac did. They won’t fall asleep next to me each night like Fred did. They won’t rub my back and curl up next to me like my ex-girlfriend did. I can’t run to them every time…they’ll begin to feel drained, tired of not knowing what to say when I cry to them, “I don’t want to be like this anymore!” I won’t get to take care of them like I could with a significant other, I won’t get to hold their hand “just because”. I know I need to deal with this on my own…but I don’t know if I can.
I reached out to Fred, I’ve reached out to Charles. I feel desperation take control of me, as I feel more and more alone, and by reaching out to my exes it only eggs on my self-destruction. I have dreams about sleeping with strangers and letting them use my body so they will spend time with me and care. After they leave I always feel broken and alone.
I keep thinking about suicide. It seems so real…like it’s something I’m meant to do. Honestly I don’t think anyone besides me would be surprised if I killed myself. But I don’t want to die without seeing all the beautiful places in the world…I don’t know when that will happen, though.
I feel so cold, like I did before I went to outpatient when I was seventeen. I feel cold and alone and cynical that nothing will improve my situation. I know if I went to outpatient again that it would probably help, but the only thing I want more than to feel happy is for no one to treat me like a pitiful, depressed youth. I don’t want anyone to know how bad I feel, or anyone to help. I just want someone to let me cry over and over and over until I feel something besides pain.
I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this. But I don’t really think it would matter if I did…I don’t think I’m strong enough to get out of it, anyway.
It just keeps getting worse.