Melancholy

watchmen blue depression

I’m just not feeling good. I admit it. I’m telling the internet, anyone reading this, that I’m struggling. Every day is a new challenge to see if I can make it through. It’s not about self harm, it’s about feeling lost, in doldrums, at sea. I’m fighting.

Just show up.

Do the work, you got this.

I’m nervous, I’m anxious, my depression is heavy. I felt horrible, and I was learning something new. I didn’t know what to do aside from fighting myself, and so I did. Anxiety came in, and I was wrestling with it, while trying to keep it together and learn a new game. I learned fine, but I needed to talk, I needed to say I’m not ok.

I’m not.

I’m not ok, I’m not good, I’m feeling like I’m going to fall to the floor and give up on life. But I talked it out, I fought it, it still lingers, but I fought it. Too much caffeine? Did I over do it? Or is this the wall of anxiety that I keep trying to put at bay, only to end up back at square one, in a regression.

“You’re going to have a regression….”

She told me that with such ease. Does she know? How does she know? I need to see my therapist, but she’s booked through the first week of November. I’m holding it together fine. No one knows that I’m struggling, because no one truly cares or asks.

For every spiritual moment, for every little victory, a new villain enters. I’m trying. Maybe that’s enough some days, because that’s all you get from me today.

Me trying.

I can’t do anything else.

I’m trying.

Am i wasting all my time
Chasing innocence to find
A time of my life when i should have known better
Have i wasted all these years
Hiding back the tears behind a smiling face

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