.

I’ve been treading water for so long, allowing myself to sink lower little by little. And there’s this struggle between the part of me that’s trying to be rational, and act like an adult. And the part that just doesn’t care, about anything.

Honestly, I don’t have the conviction necessary to end my life. Do I want to die? Kind of? Maybe? A lot of the time I don’t care to live this life. But that’s not enough, if you’re someone like me. I need to be sure, to ever go through with anything.

And rationally, until I reach that point, if I ever do, I need to keep trying to survive. I need to keep working. Dragging my sorry carcass out of bed every morning, and somehow forcing my mind to engage with the banal and arbitrary. Because if I stop, if I let myself sink, things can get worse. I will lose what little I have. And there’s no guarantee that even then I’ll have the conviction to end it.

But that’s not enough to motivate me, day in day out. The fear isn’t enough on its own, in the long term. I need something to live for. And most of the time, there’s nothing. There’s nothing in the present, nothing on the horizon, nothing in the distant future. There’s no light at the end of this tunnel. Nothing to look forward to. Just pain, loneliness, longing.

So I suppose this is what I’ll keep doing, bobbing along, trapped between these conflicting forces. Every now and then I’ll allow myself to be dragged below the surface by the weight of the depression. Then I’ll briefly panic, and struggle to pull myself back up. And at some point, that won’t be enough, and things will fall apart more.

Which is so stupid, to recognise that beforehand and let it happen anyway. But I don’t have it in me to fight it.