I wrote this on June 25, 2017. My depression was still a lot more severe than it is now (nine months later), but much better than a few months prior. I was still suicidal, wanted to drink, wanted to self-harm on a daily basis.
No one understands.
No one.
I am alone in this despair.
It gets more difficult each day.
There is rarely relief.
When there is, it is fleeting.
A trick, a glimpse of normalcy.
But normal is not for me.
It is for them – those other people who live life as intended.
Able to deal with what is sent their way and then move on.
I cannot move on.
I do not know how.
Running Half Empty 