Back to the start line - Minsung

6.1 I got six letters

There's darkness in the distance,
from the way that I've been living,
but I know I can't resist it.

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time,
you and I drink the poison from the same vine.
Oh, I love it and I hate it at the sane time,
hiding all of our sins from the daylight.

~~~

I can't recall a time when it would be this bad. Depressive episodes, low moods and loss of lust for literally everything are driving me crazy. I don't know where they lurk during times I feel decent and am able to say I'm happy. They lurk in the corners and then at some unsuspected point they strike, attacking me with no mercy. Then, after they've managed to push me to the ground, they retreat back into their hideaways.

It's been two weeks already and christmas holidays are another two weeks ahead. I can't wait for it, but at the same time, free time doesn't sound as interesting or awaiting; It no longer sounds worth it.

In addition, it doesn't feel deserved since I've been doing nothing but lounging around the past weeks. I've been so tired, as if the gravity would be pulling me against the ground more forcefully than before.

I don't even feel like crying anymore. I cried the first days and since then my eyes have been dry and dark; When I look in them I see nothing but a black void sucking up all the light and reflecting the reflection of my blank face. It hurts but at the same time it doesn't really.

Numb but not unfeeling. That's it.

In addition, it seems like Minho has given up as well. He doesn't acknowledge me these days, only humming or shrugging. He lives his own life and no matter how much I want him to do just that, live for himself and ingore me, I can't help but feel a sting in my heart whenever he turns his back to me.

I can't blame him. I blame only myself. Minho has gotten tired as well. Tired of me. It isn't his fault I'm like this. Nothing is ever Minho's fault.

I don't even sleep anymore. Believe me, I'm tired and feel like I could sleep for a hundred years in a row. However, when I finally crawl to bed in the dark, cold, lonely hours of the night I just lie there until my alarm goes off. Nightmares frighten me so I guess I'm at least safe from them; Those unrealistic, untrue scenarios of the worst possitibilies ever mess with my head. They aren't real, they can't be. So, why do I believe them?

As I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, I let myself dive into the depths of my own mind, where thoughts are spinning and not leaving any room for peace.

I think about myself, my past, my future. All of them sound too hopeless; In all of them I'm a worthless little boy. I'm really not that important; in every picture of myself I'm just a worthless little creature, unable to be anything great.

I should be dead, really. That thought never leaves, staying the same, always. It makes me question so much. What am I even doing here still? Everything was going so well and now all those hopeful dreams and genuine happiness are falling down like a house of cards.

I should know that. That all good comes to an end eventually. And what will be left? Nothing but pain.

I've been thinking another thing as well.

I know I'm not alone, however, I don't know how other people do it. Well, I do know one way. They go to some professionals, right? For me, that's not the easiest option.

Mom always talked about how people going to therapy are crazy, ubstable, mentally ill weirdos. She talked in such a ugly, disctriminating way of people with mental health issues that I often felt very bad. On the other side, her mistaken assumptions as well as her attitude problem explain her reaction to my self harm.