Damn, I have gotten fired up these past few weeks. A strange zest for life cloaks me. I’ve been feeling so empowered to turn my life around. However, in the back of my mind I am always calculating my next existential crisis. I feel like my depression and anxiety might be hiding around the corner waiting to beat me down to a vegetative state. I don’t want that shit to happen man. I hate crying myself to sleep. And occasionaly I picture myself in a funeral suit, it makes me cringe. I hate these thoughts because they push me to the edge of insanity.
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After weeks of wrestling with myself, I made an appointment to see a therapist. But your concerns are mine; even if I do climb out of this pit the next fall is going to be all the more worse.
Possibly?
I keep telling myself one day at a time.