“Frances Farmer Will Her Revenge On Seattle“. No one remembers that name. All they remember is that line.
It’s misleading. It isn’t comfort. It’s the lack of fear. For some of us, the fear is so overwhelming and painful that even the hope of possible happiness is too weak compared to the explosion of fright change will bring.
At least with depression, you know all the lines and the rules and you have a place. It’s not a good place, but it’s yours.
I came really close last night. I just wanted everything to end. Living can be so unbearable. Existing in a world, unloved and unseen, a ghost whose house has fallen down around her.
I have no energy. I have nothing to look forward to. I don’t want to be seen. I haven’t left the house since Christmas Eve. I am losing my grasp on things.
Maybe it would be better for it all to just be over. At least then it would stop. Please just make it stop.