I’ve written about this before but I feel the need to write about it again. When I’m depressed I’m happy.
Let me explain…
Today for the first time in awhile I wasn’t depressed at all. I haven’t been on any antidepressants for two days and all of a sudden I can breathe. I’m tempted to start taking them again so I get worse. When I’m depressed people worry about me. It’s the only time I know they actually care about and love me. They take care of me so I don’t have to. I guess too that I’m so familiar with sadness, hopelessness, helplessness, hatefulness, shame, guilt being in my pathetic heart that I know myself best when I’m in that fog, that darkness with demons to face. It’s all I’ve ever known. I’m comfortable just sitting in it.
I don’t know how to feel about this anymore…I am lost. I can’t get the idea of killing myself out of my head. I want it so badly but I have to have a good reason. I have to feel the worst I’ve ever felt in order to go through with it.