Originally written (12/20/23 13:57 Wed)
(Warning that the grammar is terrible-in terms of uppercasing letters and such and punctuation.)

this weight, it's an anchor i can't release. im trying to swim to the surface of this ocean of misery im drowning in but im tied down by the doubts and fears and anxieties persuading me to stay, telling me i don't need to breathe the happiness above the surface to survive.

somedays i sink, somedays i rise, and somedays i simply float in the dark abyss my world has turned into. i look for an end to this murkiness surrounding me but every direction goes on for miles. im alone in this place, this purgatory that oftentimes feels more like hell, than anything else. i want to reach the surface. but i still cling to the desire to be perfect, to be unique, to be everything that im not. i grip it like a lifeline. but i know it does nothing but drag me further down into the dark. why can't i just accept myself for the way i am? why do i feel the need to mold myself into something only i seem to be able to deem as "worthy enough"?

i don't know what i want anymore. i used to think i did. but they were only empty desires, deceitful little lies that only tried to drag me down with them. i compare myself to anything and everything around me. i envy what others accomplish–things i don't have the energy nor the motivation to do myself.

purpose is meaningless in this dull grey sea my thoughts have evolved into. i don't see color anymore. i long to be special–to feel special–to be good at something, to be better at something than anyone else, to stand out and be praised for it. it's a hollow, pointless desire i now know holds no promise. it's almost funny how different i am compared to everyone else. yet i still wish to be more different, to be completely separate and independent.

i wonder how other people see me. if they see the way i do things the same way i see others do things, if they look at my work and think, "dang, i wish i did that". my words will always be pointless. unless someone chooses to listen to them, they'll never be anything other than digital codes on a computer screen, traced lead on thin paper, uttered phrases fallen on deaf ears.

i can't take back the thoughts i think, the words i say, the choices i make, or the actions i take. i can't change what happens or what happened. i wish i could but i know it's impossible. so i write. i write useless, meaningless sentences, paragraphs, and short stories I've-more often then not-left unfinished. this is how i've learned to cope, to deal with...well, everything. the lack of motivation haunts me like a ghost in the abandoned house my head may as well be considered now. it almost never leaves. but on the rare occasion it does, i have to be quick in getting as much done as i can before it comes back to dull my energy down to a stub.

sometimes i don't understand why im still here. how have i made it this far? why can't i climb out of this deep ditch of depression i tripped and fell into? i should know the answers to all these questions after everything i've learned and been through over the past couple years...but i don't. it makes me wanna scream, so loud and so far, until my voice tires out, until the voices in my head have been drowned out by my own. but i can't.

(Author's note): Thank you to anyone who willingly read all of that crappy writing. It's not my worst writing but it could be better. I'll be posting more things like this-just things I wrote a little while ago that've been sitting in a Pages file. I hope maybe even a few people will find at least a little comfort in reading the feeling most people with depression feel written out in words.

You ever feel like people don't write enough about the actual feelings you experience when your depression kind of beats you to the ground? I do. And I'm sure a few other people would agree with me.

I decided to put a little inspirational/relatable quote at the end of each of these...chapters(?), I guess you could call them.

"Everything you lose is a step you take."

- Taylor Swift