Reply to my Depression - I hate you (Aged 20)

Written two days after the previous entry. Things are getting worse.

Why does this disease leave me so drained?  Why have I not gone back to class?  I know that things are not the way that I have lead myself to believe, that I am fine, and that I am normal.  But then I have known that for a while now.  But now it feels as though my heart is breaking clean in half, and it’s bleeding through the rest of my chest cavity.  But it isn’t blood, but some caustic liquid that pulls my entire body in towards my chest, wanting nothing but to curl up in the fetal position and wait for the world to go away.  I wonder what I must do to uncurl and live again.
I know that things are not normal, but I will have to go back into something like my old life.  I feel like there has been a schism again, that I can’t imagine life as it was before, nor can I picture myself behaving like I know I did before.  That sounds contradictory, but they both are really saying the same thing, that I can’t picture myself going along as I did before my latest crash.  I have dreams, but to get to them I have to return to my old life.  I don’t want to forsake my dreams, and I have no others in contention to replace them.  It is possible that I merely have not spent enough time in this state to construct new dreams, but I don’t want to stay like this forever.  I don’t like the idea of caustic substances running amok in my chest, nor not being able to walk with my head held high anymore.
Ms. Davis told my theater class about the body’s response to looking heavenward: looking up releases good feeling chemicals in the human body.  Hence why in most every religious tradition the gods live among the clouds.  That physical response to looking up, I think, fills the need for a god, for some higher authority, leading to the societal construction of heavens and havens as upward.  I lied my way out with my first psychiatrist with the help of that line.  But now I know that something is wrong with me that I can’t even bring myself to walk looking upwards.

Reviews

[Marcel Deer]

Beautiful writing. Somebody that accepts and publishes the negativity of their feelings Stick around and don't worry!