More of the same

I feel like I am ultimately fighting a losing battle. I keep struggling to regain control, but I'm in no better shape now than before. I honestly can't make myself see the purpose of my life. I can't even invent one. I feel like I had lived in a bubble throughout college, and though I am grateful for the things I have learned in the past two years, I long for that kind of safety and security again. I want to love the way I did before. I feel like I've turned completely cold. This isn't the person I know I can be. Maybe there's no way to ever be that person again. I used to be happy. I used to be excited about life, and though I was anxious, I never remember living in a constant state of terror and misery for such an extended period of time.
I wake up, and I immediately think about the day ahead of me. The only thing I can think about is crawling back into bed At the end of the day so I can stop experiencing reality. And I would rather die than exist like this forever, or until it is too late.
There are good things happening in my life. But I cannot appreciate them. I understand them and know how I should feel. How I would feel. But I don't actually feel any of it. I experience only transient pleasure. And even in these experiences, the pain is still there. I am always hurting. And it's been well over a year. I remember having trouble before that, but it's been about that long since it became inescapable.
I truly don't know if I have enough energy/strength to continue on this course. I keep thinking about ways to die, whether on purpose or by accident. I keep thinking about other ways to just destroy my life. I see myself committing terrible acts of violence and cannot help but visualize every gruesome detail.
I want to fight. I want to just push through and come out clean on the other side. But that attitude has only made me more miserable. I've said it before, mostly about life in general, but it applies to depression just as much: There is no other side.
I have only this existence to work with. And I am fucking it all up. I don't know how to navigate through all of this, which seems frighteningly new and endlessly the same. Everyone else seems to be doing at least okay. What makes me so unable to do it? And by it I mean life. What am I not doing that I could be? And why can't I do the things that I know I should be doing but am not?
My breath is forever stuck right above my sternum. The pressure. I just want to be rid of that feeling. To let my arms fall limp at my sides and melt into the world around me.
I caught myself daydreaming About what it was like to hold him. I saw and felt it all over again. And then the memories kept taking me further back in time, further into my mind than I ever want to be any more.
I feel like a black hole.
I don't know why I do anything anymore. I am only pretending to know what the more stable version of myself would want out of life. I don't want to make decisions in a state like this, but what if not making them is worsening this condition?
I feel like I am becoming so bitter and resentful. I cannot escape thoughts about all the people who used to be a part of this life of mine. And I know I mean nothing anymore. I want to feel like a ripple in the pond sometimes. Instead I feel like a drop of water taken captive in a syringe.
I want to be able to experience the world with other people at the same time. I want to feel like something matters. I don't want to fake it anymore. I want certain people to understand this pain. I want them to see what their actions continue to so to me, but maybe they'd be happy and think I deserve it. And I may. I may deserve all of this and not even know it.
But then my rational brain tries to sve the day, and it only succeeds in making things worse. We never get what we deserve; we only get what we get. And then we must decide what to do with it. I don't know if I'm doing anything with what I have been given.
I'm terrified. But I think the very best thing would be for me to go where I can truly start over. But I don't want to admit that the rest of my life is lost. I can't. Something will not let me leave certain parts of my past behind. I have chosen to follow my instincts. And I hope it works. I just want to be able to survive long enough. And I'm getting more and more convinced that I will not see this through.
I have thrown away or sold almost everything I brought back with me. I feel like I am already dead. I really don't feel like I exist any more than a piece of furniture.
And these thoughts are all I have. I am obsessed with my own misery. I cannot escape myself. It's probably why I've been drinking more. Never alone and never without occasion. But it's more often than I ever did in college.
I want to stop looking.
I want to feel.
I just want to be okay with myself and my life.
I want to stop writing about this. I need real fucking help and know I will not be able to get it. And I wish somebody actually cared to acknowledge that there is something wrong. I'm not sure if my family has given up on me. or maybe the same fantasy as always applies yet again. and maybe that's why I am so fucked up. I don't know how to be anything other than a robot. I don't know how to manage any of my emotions. I want to be able to experience emotions and function in my life at the same time. But that may be too much to ask.
I don't even know why I write anymore if this is all that I ever accomplish. Maybe one day ill be able to see the change in my words. Maybe I will one day see happiness on this screen.
God, I just want to die. Really. I'm just too afraid of living. I'm too afraid of an endless now. I don't want to be broken. I don't want to go through life like this, an maybe that is why I don't have any motivation. Maybe my brain is trying to make the wish a reality by refusing to let me participate in my life.

Hope has failed me.