Depression Understood Forums

Sometimes. Sometimes I feel like I'm alive. That I live life without living. I feel like a buried being in my body. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy. That feeling where I think my mind is going to explode. When does the feeling that it can't go on, when do I feel like an animal roaring in a cage, when does the feeling of insanity grow into reality. When only the remains of your will separate you from collapse. When I feel like I'm going to fall and never get up. But that hasn't happened yet, I keep trying. My aimless life is like a race without an end, where I know that someday I will give up because I will no longer have the strength or the will to go on When every day it hurts so much that I can't feel anything anymore. When I go and I don't know where, that's why I go with the flow. I don't know who I am, I don't know what I want. Sleep is a refuge, but also a ferry to another aimless day. Despite everything, I continue to live, maybe even in the hope that it will get better, but how. Maybe. Maybe it will get better, but what if it doesn't, I think. It's like I'm torn in two. Sometimes there are better days when I'm not blinded by darkness and inanity, but is that enough? Is it enough to survive years in freezing darkness for a few rays of light? The other darker face. My whisperer is my companion. You are nothing, she says. I know.

My reply will be riddled with cliche and sloppy prose poetry so youll have to excuse that.

When every day it hurts so much that I can't feel anything anymore. When I go and I don't know where, that's why I go with the flow. I don't know who I am, I don't know what I want. Sleep is a refuge, but also a ferry to another aimless day.

This was a gut punch of looking in a mirror. This is the depression i know. Yours sounds like it is sometimes fiery and vengeful, which is another flavor of beast. But this part stuck in my throat and my chest with mournful recognition. I know this routine, this thud, this numb ache that is simultaneously a din buzzing in the background and the loudest deafaning subwoofer.
If nothing else there are at least two of us who know this. I recognize me in your words. Knowing what it feels like, im sorry for you and im sorry for me.

Is it enough to survive years in freezing darkness for a few rays of light?

This too. I ask this always. I havent allowed myself an answer. Keeping it at bay by leaving it unanswered is a naieve kindness, a coping mechanism. The true tragedy is the dilation of time, the bloating of the numbing pain stretching nights into eons, and the light spots are pinpricks when viewed from the pit of a black hole. I know the knawing of the bleak answer your whisperer provides.

Whatever its worth, you struck a chord. I wish you luck facing the perpetual next day. May the beams of light feel less faint.