imer

i’m so so so tired of being depressed. i’m so tired of crawling on my knees, begging for a better mind or afterlife. i hate the cycles of my life and the cages of poverty. i hate the way my sadness impacts those around me. i hate how freely i have given without being met in return. i have never gotten over anything in my life, my healing is a facade. i distract myself with top hits because i can’t risk feeling again. i feel creatively dead and am the unhealthiest i have ever been in my life. i can no longer look at myself without wanting to cry.

when does it end? when will joy last more than the length of an afternoon? when will my mother reach out without trying to save me through god? when has god ever saved me? i miss and i yearn and i lay in bed for days. play a montage and you’ll see how much of my life has been wasted in this bed. i cannot love without pain. i cannot look at a photo without wondering if I was happier then (i wasn’t).

this site makes my heart ache with desire and longing for a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore and versions of me that will never exist. my days are now filled and occupied and i don’t have time for things that once felt like everything. poetry i miss most. connection without judgement. i miss writing but it’s the one thing i hate doing. i miss painting. i miss adventure and excitement. i miss my old friends.

i know i can’t return to what once was as it will never be the same. and a lot of growing up is learning to be okay with that. knowing that the future has equal joys in store and not mourning for things once had for too long. not letting the grief succumb you.

i think the one good thing about present me is i’m not as sad as i used to be. i think about how stuck in despair i used to be and i simply can’t do it anymore. i no longer crave the comforting pain of sadness. i no longer sleep with a ton of bricks on my chest and my crying is always brief. my depression and anxiety remain but they no longer overtake me. i can’t listen to sad music anymore. i can’t listen to anything from when i was 19. its slippery.

the past few years have been hard. i’ve foolishly self harmed in my 20s, nearly admitted myself into the mental hospital that one summer, lost dignity, lost friends and lost the most beloved. i miss all my friends that have passed and i miss my friends i don’t speak to everyday. i don’t recognize myself most days but if i think about it too long my chest begins to ache.