The Las Vegas skyline, copyrighted
Maybe everything is a lie. Maybe we aren't who or what we are. Maybe it's just not how the world is supposed to be put together.
Fuck it. I can't remember how it is to be depressed. Or, I do know how it feels like, I just can't say whether I'm depressed or not right now. That is the problem. Knowing is always the problem. It's not just enough to think, to believe. You have to know the truth. At least that's how I work. Nothing can be proved right or wrong, but you have to know to be certain.
Maybe it is so that the depression is just something that comes every late autumn and stays for a while? If the world wasn't that confusing... Then I might survive another winter. With snow. And Christmas. And family. What a joy that would be. Well, not really...
I don't want it to get back onto me. The suicide thoughts. The bad habits of not doing anything, feeling anything or being anything. I want to survive this winter. Right now, today, there are so many things to actually be here for. Be me for.
I don't want to cry.
I don't want to not be able to cry.
I don't want to feel unworthy.
I don't want to be silent.
I don't want to open the car door when my grandfather is driving.
I don't want to be afraid.
I don't want to lie to myself.
I don't want to be helpless.
I don't want to not wanting to feel.
I don't want to loose my great support.
I don't want to suppress my feelings.
I don't want to not being able to smile.
I don't want to hurt you.
I don't want to act cold and heartless.
I don't want everybody else to feel sorry for me.
I wonder how it is to be a victim of incest.
