Anyway, whenever I'm not depressed(or rather, whenever I'm not sad) I find myself wanting to feel depressed. I suppose I find sadness to feel better then emptiness. I sort of have a love-hate relationship with depression. It's a comforting weight. I enjoy on some level sinking into it, curling up and allowing it to cover me like a blanket. It is a nurturing feeling. The downside of this of course is that I find it hard to even get out of bed in these moments of intense sadness.
But it's something, you know? It's an old friend. My depression knows me better then anyone, and I think on some level I enjoy it. What else is there really? I've done therapy, I've done medication, and nothing has helped. I don't even think I want to be helped, since I'm not sure what I'd be like without this illness. The moments I seem "free" of it, I feel naked.
I'm sort of wrecked either way. I have no friends, but I don't really want them either, being so socially stunted in all the critical years of adolescents. I have no goals for my future, outside an occasional desire to write. Even if i could wake up tomorrow and be free of this, where would I go from there?
No real advice needed. But 'tis the season to rant I suppose. On some level I've made my peace with it. I can't imagine life any other way, and honestly I don't think I could be happy even if I was not ill.
In any event, thank you for taking the time to read my self pity. Happy Holidays to all.
