neelydan has three things to contribute:
first, a poem for the OP and everyone else who truly understands what it is to be depressed - a special dedication to those of the opinion that having fucking internet access is magical guard against being depressed:
listening to the radio at 1:35am - Charles Bukowski
i switch the station
a man plays the piano in grand fashion
somewhere else
there are nice homes
on the ocean shore
where you can
take your drink
out on the veranda
and
stand at ease and
watch the waves
listen to the waves
crashing in the dark
and yet
at the same time
you can fee crappy there
too -
just like me now
having a dog fight
fighting for my life
within these 4 walls
20 miles inland.
Secondly:
We all have our crosses to bear. You’re not alone.
Lastly:
If anyone posting here, even on a subconcious level, has taken some sort of rah rah badass approach to this with the hopes of scoring points amongst other posters, you’re going to rot one day. Enjoy that.
Depression, true depression, colours everything grey. It infects every part of you. It’s a thick, black cloud that completely wraps itself around you like a fucking boa constrictor. It’s relentless and it is plain easy to see how not living anymore would be more appealing.
Thing is, life IS worth living.
Life is worth living.