Venting mostly · 12:05am May 2nd, 2018
There's a hollow feeling somewhere deep in my chest that won't go away. These past few months feel like a long daze where it's difficult to find a purpose in existing. I feel happy a good deal of the time, more so than I have before, but my production in terms of my passions have become all but standstill. I want to say something artsy or creative here just so it'll satisfy my need to write something important.
Passion is a weird thing when faced with something as complicated as depression. Depression is a dark feeling that wants to control your body and tell you there's no point in trying to better yourself because no small stones you put down will ever build a house. It's difficult to commit myself to any form of hard labor, so I spend most days doing very little other than sitting down and trying to waste time so I don't have to be inside my own head. I'm thinking a lot about my life in general lately, and how depression has held me back. I wonder if trying to pass off the blame on a mental illness is harmful or scapegoats some of the blame onto myself. I think about my writing, the things I was once passionate about, and I still feel that fire in me wanting to work on them and love them again but I feel weighted upon actually trying to do it. Words come slow. A thousand words feels like an impossible task these days. I wish I could start something like a pateron like my boyfriend has, but I have this sinking feeling like I've been gone so long from having regular uploads that nobody would care like he has.
Sometimes I struggle to understand what the point in me living is. I don't feel suicidal when I have these thoughts, strangely enough. I don't know if I've ever in any point of my life actually been that close to the edge. But sometimes the thought is there when I think about my future. I feel like I spent most of my time from age fourteen upward being so lost in this endless spiral of negative thoughts and depression that working towards my future in any way felt impossible. I sort of feel like I just exist and I have no real goals at times. I feel like my writing was the only thing that kept me having some sort of dream for a future and while I still have that dream lately it feels very misguided. I'm worried I'm going to become one of those people who drowns my sorrows in drinking or smoking pot or something. Trying to talk about it with friends brings comfort that falls on deaf ears because I feel like everybody lies to me. My brain is wired simply to tell me that I don't matter and anybody who says otherwise is wrong, or lying. Even if I'm able to objectively know my brain works like this it doesn't stop those feelings. Sometimes I just open up a wordpad and type out how I'm feeling to put it into words and just after a paragraph I delete it because it won't go anywhere. Even here I'm restricting my words on how I really feel because it's public. I"m essentially rambling at this point.
I guess I'll just link a song I rediscovered recently to end this whole thing.
I really wish your depression had a physical form sometimes, just so I could beat it with a tire iron.
I've been with you for over two and a half years, and ive done everything I could to put you in a better place than you used to be. And honestly, I think it should go without saying that you're in a much better place now than you were when we first met. You're living on your own, you're no longer living in a stressful environment around those who feel you should do things other than writing, and you're able to pursue what makes you happy without obligation or pressure. There are a million things I want to say, but I think there's only one that I feel should really stick in moments like this:
You deserve to be happy.
No matter what you might try to say or think about yourself, you deserve to feel happy about the things you enjoy. Whether that's writing, gaming, or just enjoying a nice evening with others, you deserve to be happy.and no matter what happens, I'll never stop trying to make you feel that way.
Next time you write, for the love of God don't delete it. If you don't like it, still save it. Write it out, and keep it to look back at later. Of you still don't like it, think to yourself, "what can I do with this? Where can I take this from here?"
I know that might be cheesy, but cheesy is just another word for cliched. And cliched things are known as such because they're so common. And since common things are usually those that work consistently, just think in that mindset. If something is cheesy or predictable, that's just because it usually works.
Don't delete, soldier on, and think about all you managed to achieve compared to how you used to be three years ago. :)
I feel like the point of living is to see what happens, and to enjoy what pleasures we can along the way. That's what keeps me going. Depression sucks but as long as I'm alive I feel some small measure of victory over it simply by persisting in my existence, and that keeps me from falling into complete hopelessness. Perhaps looking at things this way could help you as well. And of course, warm hugs from soft stallions also help~ *provides plenty of such hugs*