Life has become.... unbearable. I feel consumed by my darkness in ways that's I've never tried to articulate into words. The last 6 months I've felt so alone in the world like I can't talk to anybody. I feel so set in my isolation, I miss talking to people but can't help myself but continue it. I don't know who I am anymore. My depression is who I am right now. It's all I have. I can barely remember a time without the constant torment. As I tough through this phase, I have come to realize that I hate myself. That I honestly feel like I don't deserve help, so I use excuses to prolong my suffering.
As I write this, thoughts of being melodramatic and to get over it plague me. My obsession with self pity is making me yearn a more permanent state of being. I feel like an outsider to my own journey, an alien to my existence. It takes all my being to just not give up, I don't want to. Because as distant as my past seems to my current state of mind. I do vaguely remember what serenity feels like.
I haven't left my home in over a year. I haven't spoken to anyone in half that time. Both scare me to over come. I need help with it but I don't know how to ask. I can't do it for anyone else, I have to do it for myself and that's the greatest challenge of all because when it comes down to it. I don't feel like I'm worth it. Maybe this post to myself will help me, maybe it won't. Maybe someone can relate, I hope not.
I am a lost soul, in a perpetual spiral of sorrow.
