Just sharing

  June 11th, 2018 by idoztknoe

I dont want to talk about it.
I wake up every day with this gnawing feeling. I try to push it away, but it gets worse.
It doesn’t stop. This feeling.
It hurts. It stings. All the heartache, the stress…it gets to you.
But all I ask, is that you understand.
Its deep depths of darkness, and loneliness. Like a boulder of weight always on your back. Slowly hurting you.
It doesn’t stop unless you make it.
When you die you cease to exist, so why fight if when your dead it ll all not exist.
Some took the leap. I really do envy them.
Please just understand that I’m not trying to be “selfish” or “hurtful.” I just want that boulder to stop hurting me.
I just want to love happily.
It’s hard to go through life when your own brain has turned against you.
that feeling of utter hopelessness that can so easily consume a life.
Getting out of bed is a struggle.
Taking a shower is a struggle.
Looking in the mirror is a struggle.
Yes there are people that love me but I could easily rationalize it and say that they were better off without me or that it wouldn’t matter to me if i was dead,
God I know it’s selfish to put my loved ones through that, but at the same time it was so goddamn difficult to stay alive just for the well-being of others, depression is a *****.
giving myself a chance to heal is the kindest thing I could do for myself. When your own mind betrays you it’s hard to get back up again.
So at some point, you stop caring.
You look at your life, day after day, and see what it is. You look toward your future and see what it is. It’s work, it’s hardships, it’s waking up in the morning and wishing you could just sleep the rest of the day.
Its crying,and crying, and crying
It’s staring at the wall thinking nothing for hours just in pain
It’s wanting to just disappear and die
Its being aware and knowing how small you are and what you have and haven’t done and the guilt of everything you’ve ever done.
But you’ve been taught that it’s worth it.
You’ve been told that so often that you tell that to yourself.
You get up in the morning, you work, you endure the pain because your loved ones, your fun times, life’s beauties make it worth it.
You hate it all.
I acknowledge life’s joys, my loved ones and all the other wonderful shit that I don’t deserve. I have friends and family who would die for me, and i would die for them. I’ve experienced moments that I will cherish forever.
I see things so mystical and beautiful that they give they give me a sense of a bigger picture, a sense of paradise. Sometimes I can sit back and just know, just feel, that life is good.
Then there are other times. Times when I have everything and I know it.I know that life is good, but I don’t feel it anymore. I still have the great moments, but you begin to question if they are worth it. If the day-in/day-out struggle is worth it. You’re so afraid of the answer that you dismiss it until one day i answer it for myself.
times the feelings are so lost, i don’t care. I don’t care about how ungrateful I seem. I don’t care about the good times. I don’t care about beauty, at least not the same way I did before.
I stop caring about consequences because consequences only matter in a world where they will be realized.
In my depressed and suicidal state, there will be no realization of consequences because there is no future,
no hope
no light at the end of the tunnel
and there will be no better days
therefore, how my actions affect the future is irrelevant.
Because in my mind there isn’t one

Now, imagine yourself and the people you love.
Bring to mind those you love most of all, whom you would do almost anything for, maybe even give your life for. Those for whom you would drop everything and rush to their sides.
Imagine what it would take for you to suddenly not care, to become numb to those people, their feelings and their needs. Envision what awesome power would be necessary to transform you into someone simply indifferent to leaving those you love behind.
Depressed me does not care about taking his own life because, to him, any part that has ever felt “alive” is long-since dead, and he is simply ready to remove the husk from life support.

Most nights, I sleep normally. Yet, I still wake feeling tired. I get up, and I go through the motions with no passion, searching for something to keep me distracted from the growing emptiness inside. Sometimes, that emptiness begins to show on the outside, and people ask me if I’m all right.
I assure them that I am and put on a better mask.
I remember what it’s like to be happy. It isn’t difficult for me to act. Sometimes, I hope I’ll be able to fool myself, but I never do.
Some nights, I lie awake and wish the next morning will never come.
I wonder how long I can keep going while the darkness inside of me grows.

I dont want to talk about it.

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