I have so much weight on me that I'm literally dragging this.
I can't ever get it right. I should be happy I'm still here, God knows a couple months ago I didn't think I'd be.
I'm not enough.
I'm the one left behind, but I can't bring myself to say.
I feel like maybe I'm the side character in everyone's story. I feel like I don't have one. It feels like I'm the one that's just there. Not important, but not unimportant.
It feels like I'm just here to help everyone find their people.
It feels like I'm an inconvenience sometimes. And maybe I am. Maybe that's why I'm writing this.
Maybe I'm trying to force myself to have a story when I have none.
I can't put my words on anything. It's all moving in slow motion.
I can't do enough right to balance out what I've done wrong.
I wish time would stop so I could go back. Somewhere, I made it to where it feels like it's just me.
Sometimes, it feels like people only get my attention when they need something. It feels like I'm not seen as someone like other people. It feels like I'm a bad engineered robot or something.
I hate that I feel this way, but it couldn't be a more accurate way to describe some of the things the depression latches onto.
