I fear my depression is getting worse. It seems like every day, I am trying to stop myself crying. I am dreaming of dying more often. Pain keeps hitting me, wave after wave after wave. My energy is drained just thinking about it.
I am back in a closet, huddled in the dark. I had thought that I had broke the door down, I thought that I had finally escaped. But I am back in. I am back in so as to make others feel better, to ensure that their feelings are respected. It doesn't matter that it hurts. It doesn't matter that it's killing me. I hide my true self, forcing who I am down down down inside me, to make others happy.
So I remain trapped, trapped in a shell that others have created for me. A shell of expectations, a shell of perceived normality. The shell is too small, and I feel myself suffocating, yet I am unsure what I can do. I know what I need to do, but I don't know where to start, or how. Escape seems impossible, yet I know that I must. I must escape. Or I will die.
To be honest, either outcome seems equally preferable. No matter what happens, the pain will stop. Until then, I will live in hell, a hell created for me by people whose feelings must be protected, must be validated. Each day I feel another chip at my soul, slowly breaking away. I will escape from the closet some day one way or the other, but I wonder, will anything be left of my soul? God bless
A gay and non-binary person's look at life, while dealing with depression and thoughts of self harm
Monday, July 17, 2017
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