It sucks.
Today I was feeling confident. Cute and relaxed, ready to give a big "fuck you" to the world. I floated down the Lazy River and screamed like I was actually about to fly off the water slide, even though I knew I wouldn't. My boyfriend came over and I didn't protest when he called me pretty, nor did I get upset when the chicken took three hours to cook instead of one. I felt normal.
It was such a little thing that set me off. My mom was complaining about the miles we were putting on her car, and my immediate thought was that I could kill myself and she wouldn't have to worry about it.
That's not the normal I was living a few hours before. At least, not the normal my friends know. I'm used to it in a twisted way. I'm trapped in an endless cycle of hopeful highs, which drop to bitter depressive lows.
There was a TedTalk I watched about being casually suicidal. About how, eventually, you become so used to this idea that you won't have a future or natural ending, that it just becomes a fact of life. Sky is blue. Anna K. is beautiful. I have depression. This casual mindset is dangerous because it makes it so that you almost feel as though you don't need treatment. Cardboard won't stop a bullet.
I do try, though. Honest to God. I have apps, hotlines, as a last resort, friends. It just doesn't work. It seems like talking through problems isn't going to keep me alive. I'm not sure what will, or does. Laziness, probably. Fear.
I'm trying therapy again. Maybe I'll find some cure. All I want, at this point, is another good day. One where I look forward to a family or future, instead of just wondering how far it is to the nearest bridge.
