Depression! The diagnosis professionals don’t want to diagnose me with. Because that’d mean they’d have to give me antidepressants and care for what I have to say. Which they don’t.
Depression is to me a way for my failiours to gather around me and choke me into the oblivion without anyone or me noticing.
But what it’s not, is the end. Because I know that I hate my life today and I’ll continue to hate my life for years like I’ve hated it for years before. But one thing I know is that it’s not lasting forever. I will get better and I will get better eventually. I am allowed to be sad and feel bad for myself, and I know that in the future when I’m stronger and have fixed a better life for myself, I will move on. I’m just not there yet.