Word vomit
I'm just sitting here tonight, staring out the window into the darkness. Outside close by all I can see is the random lights of local businesses. Here I am in this city, wishing to be in a world of my dreams. I walked down the street today, looking at the modern tumbleweed and watching as vehicles passed with their unassuming passengers. Walking may have lightened my spirit for the time I was doing it, but still, in my mind, so much more to drag me down.
I still worry constantly about that which I have no control over. Is my family doing well? Will I one day have a family of my own? How can I become the kind of person who could concievably protect and provide for a family? Should I give up on school and look for a job? Continue school and hope for the best?
I'm drawn to Brandon. Ernie is still in my mind. My mind, which sings to me constantly of my downfall from a higher self and the inability to regain a foot hold. I was once the king of my world, and now, lying face down in the mud and pouring rain, I cannot force myself to stand. Are my wounds really so deep?
My depression has me lashing out at others. Has me unable to pull myself together. Advice falls upon deaf ears. No motivation to walk, try, or live life. I have pushed myself as far as I can go now, and gotten nowhere. I've put in honest effort, and nothing. I am always denied. I'm too white, too single, too young, not sick enough for their standards, and yet too sick for others.
I sometimes ask for it to end, and wake up the next morning thankful it hasn't, only to wish it away as I lay down to sleep again... when I sleep. I want to be held, and told it is okay to cry, assured tomorrow will be better, and honestly believe the one saying it.
I still worry constantly about that which I have no control over. Is my family doing well? Will I one day have a family of my own? How can I become the kind of person who could concievably protect and provide for a family? Should I give up on school and look for a job? Continue school and hope for the best?
I'm drawn to Brandon. Ernie is still in my mind. My mind, which sings to me constantly of my downfall from a higher self and the inability to regain a foot hold. I was once the king of my world, and now, lying face down in the mud and pouring rain, I cannot force myself to stand. Are my wounds really so deep?
My depression has me lashing out at others. Has me unable to pull myself together. Advice falls upon deaf ears. No motivation to walk, try, or live life. I have pushed myself as far as I can go now, and gotten nowhere. I've put in honest effort, and nothing. I am always denied. I'm too white, too single, too young, not sick enough for their standards, and yet too sick for others.
I sometimes ask for it to end, and wake up the next morning thankful it hasn't, only to wish it away as I lay down to sleep again... when I sleep. I want to be held, and told it is okay to cry, assured tomorrow will be better, and honestly believe the one saying it.