Quoted By:
>I don’t get much joy from my life. I feel like every day is just a walk along a tightrope: there’s no point to it. The tightrope being my mostly-functional mental state, it’s the only thing between me and the abyss. Everyday, for some mysterious reason, I have to balance along this thin line, keeping face, avoiding the possibility of despair, avoiding thinking about it—that seems to be it: I act only to keep myself from being fully engulfed by despair; the momentary, brief distractions are all that prevent it.
>The second I turn to face my despair, it overwhelms me. I can force myself to the surface again, but only enough to breathe. I can’t see any land in sight around me, so why bother continuing to return to the surface? Why bother continuing to kick my feet when there’s no hope in sight?
>I can’t sustain the good things—I don’t even know if I can call them “good,” they’re mostly just neutral things, tasks or activities; none of it makes me feel better, and when it does it means nothing. Why am I bothering to build and sustain a life? I don’t want it. I don’t want a life here and now. I have to be wrong in this—I know I am. But I don’t believe it. There’s nothing around me. It’s just silent and I am alone.
My journal entry today.
