Surviving, but just barely.

As Three Days Grace says, “I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.”

I agree. Not just physical pain, but it seems as if I hurt myself emotionally with intent. For about three years now, my depression’s been going on and off, wavering. Sometimes I’ll feel incredibly ecstatic, and other times I’ll be locked up in my room, cutting away with my frenemy, X-Acto. But most of the time? The feeling of nothing. Tabula rasa. Now that I think about it, it’s kind of psychopathic. No empathy, no warmth, just… nothing.

I have tried calling the suicide hotline, only when I’m home alone, which isn’t for long. My parents know that I’m depressive, but they’re never really there for me. One of my friends was also depressive before, but now that’s she’s better, she doesn’t like to talk about it. Which is really too bad, because she’s the only person I know who understands.

So how do I cope with this inner monster? Three ways.

1. I write. Someday I’d like to be a novelist. Don’t you just love wishful thinking?

2. Hold out for the future. I like to make bucket lists of things that I want to do, whether it be travel or skydiving. I tell myself, three more years until I leave for college.

3. There’s this guy I met on the Internet. He’s really smart and funny, and I love chatting with him. Only problem is that every time I do, I feel like I’m bothering/annoying him.

I guess I will survive. I’m too chicken to off myself, anyways.