Swimming in depression. I don't understand that expression. Depression isn't an ocean. Depression is a wall. An invisible wall. You won't know when it'll hit you. You'll be the happiest person ever, walking down the street, skipping to the beat, and it'll hit you and EVERYTHING will come crashing down. And you won't be able to get back up again. Until you really try. And when you do, and resume your walking, it'll hit you again. And again. And again. It's a vicious cycle.
And you can't even talk about it. Because you'll feel like no one understands. Because no one really does. You'll just have to pretend like everything's okay. When it's not. When your head is telling you you're worthless. When it tells you no one loves you. Not romance love. The other kind of love. When you feel truly alone. And all your embarrassing moments will come flooding in your head. And for some weird reason, that'll make you feel like crap. And your head will be like "Really? You actually did that? You deserve to punish yourself for that." And you'll feel like doing it. Punishing yourself, I mean. And you'll fight it. But you'll reach a day when you can't fight anymore. And you'll succumb to the pressures of your brain.
And I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of fighting. I really am. I just want it to end. Not just the depression. Everything.
