I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to do anything. I just want to sleep. Sleep, until I don’t feel this sense of overwhelming futility anymore. I want to go back, to when I still had hope. To when I still felt life could be worth living. Now I can’t even imagine experiencing contentment or peace.
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It sucks waking up to reality. There’s little that is as comfortable as the lack of awareness sleep brings. I wrestle with the concept of death being more than just an eternal sleep, a final turning off of our thought processes followed by…nothing, just like in sleep. Wouldn’t that be grand. “They” say our soul moves on and will experience something after death, yet I wonder, if its true and we have souls, where is it when I am sleeping and why am I not aware of its presence? Fuck man.
I feel you. Getting out of bed is the worst part of the day, not only because it’s so hard to do because everything in you tells you to stay in bed, but also because leaving your bed invites a myriad of issues and misfortunes to come and screw you over. And I can’t remember what it’s like to feel happiness and peace of mind either. Being deprived of those stabilizing feelings is frustrating and arguably the worst part of being depressed.