I was looking through my old Facebook photos just now… It was like reading a story backwards. It showed me hugging my family, even laughing with my friends. If showed me what I looked like before I gained all this weight. It even showed me that I had my own personal sense of style before giving up on life. Pictures that I didn’t even remember taking seemed precious while I was looking through. One of me in an ex-boyfriend’s T-shirt and jean skirt brought back memories of freedom and summer fun. I saw pictures of myself actually enjoying the company of my friends at parties and hangouts that now I would do anything to avoid. There I would be laughing as we climbed all over one another, not a care in the world.
I know these pictures were taken when I was 14, 15, 16, some even as late as 17 years old, and even though my depression was not at it’s height I still had it. In face, at that point I was living with depression.
I want to get back there, to a point were I am no longer just surviving but living again. I want friends again who I can hang out with. I want to lose this weight. I want goals and ambitions that don’t revolve around my mental health.
Truthfully, sometimes I feel as if that were impossible and I want to give up, but that is just my disease talking. It has to be. There is no way I would have made it this far, and been able to see things this way just to fall at my revelation. I can do this. The road may be long and hard, but what would victory be if it were easy?
"It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart."
I can feel my heart pulsing inside of me… I feel like it’s mocking me, saying I don’t have the guts to stop it.
So I’m watching this show with my dad about these kids who can remember their past lives and it’s all traumatic and stuff cause they’re remembering how they died and shit… and I’m sitting their actually getting jealous of these fucking kids. My thought process is ‘these fucking kids are getting to live two fucking lives in one lifetime, while I’m sitting here in this shitty fucking body feeling like an empty shell.’
I mean I’m almost 21 years old and I feel like I don’t even have a soul, like I have no purpose or drive. I feel like I am an empty vessel who’s only here to fill a spot, like there’s nothing I’m supposed to do or no one I’m supposed to be.
And yet here’s these little jackasses that have won Oscars in their past lives or whatever…
Idk I just feel really empty inside… I wish I had something I could be proud of or a goal to work toward… I feel like people my age are supposed to have ambitions… All my ambitions have revolved around trying not to kill myself when I get depressed, and look how far that’s gotten me.
Whatever. Only I would get jealous of children screaming in their sleep…