Depression.

Its plugging up your laptop to write it out and not touching it until a week later.

Its isolating yourself from your favorite people due to fear of rejection. Am I annoying them with my sadness? Am I bothering them? Do they even really like me? Am I going to disappoint them by not appearing happy, joyous and free? Why the fuck do I care about this shit?

Its planning to go for a walk after work, then coming home to take a nap. Every day.

Its eating bad foods, grabbing your fat in the mirror, and then shaming yourself for thinking about mild meth use to get skinny again. Its also realizing that I deserve to be loved for the way I am, that I’m enough, then punishing myself for doubting it.

Its getting an emergency root canal, not checking the drug abuse box, taking prescribed lortabs, then realizing you just put yourself in the worst situation for a recovering addict. Should’ve listened to my sponsor. Then its hating yourself for the self-inflicted torture. At least I flushed half of the bottle. Awareness, right?

Its sleeping the whole day away on your one day off a week. Then feeling guilty for it.

Its spending an hour looking for a relatable meme to share on pointless social media only to… not.

Its telling yourself, “Don’t you dare buy that piece of cake. You’re getting fat.” Then buying it.

Its feeling a void; an emptiness of heart and wandering mindlessly through society.

Its skipping out on doing the things that will make you feel better.

Its not taking your medication like you’re supposed to.

Its feeling so alone and no one cares. Its feeling unlovable. Unattractive. Uninspired. Boredom. Mundane. Pointless.

Its knowing all of this is a mental disease and not knowing where to start to treat it. Its knowing what to do in an attempt to feel better, but not doing it.

So that is why I’m writing this. All of this shit has been on repeat in my head for two weeks. I’m totally aware of my own self sabotage while trying to actively fight it. I am stating that I don’t give a flying fuck who it doesn’t impress that I’m mentally struggling. But deep down I do. Whatever.

I’m just trying to live a clean, sober, happy life. I’ve got the clean and sober. Where the fuck do I make the happiness come from? Myself? How the fuck? How long is this equation going to take to figure out? My whole fucking life? Yup.

Fuck me.

They say this shit gets better.

Here’s fucking hoping.