Last year around this time, I was admitted to the hospital for my severe depressive disorder…or whatever the fuck they called it. So I got to stay in the chamber of insanity hospital for about 5 agonizing days and missed my brother’s birthday.

I’ve been in therapy about a year now, longest I’ve ever been continually going. Along the way I got to be diagnosed with something lovingly called PTSD. That shit right there likes to tag-team with all the other emotions you got and send you into a downhill whirlwind. I would like to personally thank 3 people, no names mentioned, for disowning me, molesting me, and leaving me with a clusterfuck of anger, hatred, suicidal and homicidal thoughts. Who knows if jail will be in my future because of this.

With nothing to do except pace the halls with this schizophrenic kid who looked like they were about to slit my throat, and sit in a room with everyone else watching Doctor Phil nonstop and comparing how many self inflicted cuts we had on our bodies, I wondered if the stay was going to be worth it. I guess the only good thing about the place was we could feel comfortable in our own dark places without being branded as “unstable”. The whole fucking world is unstable. I still wonder how the friends I made there are doing…. hopefully alive.

And I’m not here to preach how things will get better, because to be blunt, I’ve yet to see things become better. Life has a way of kicking you while you’re down, helping you up, then purposely pushing you back into the dirt to continue beating you.

So all I’m going to say is this: Hang in there. You’ve made it this far, see how much further you can go.

It may or may not get better. I don’t know. But the day I can come out of this fucking abyss I’m in, whether it be suicide or something else, well, I pray it’s a good day.