Orient Express







Friday, January 16, 2015
The continuing journey (which feels like forever) at 3:43 AM

I couldn't take it anymore. One week of sertraline, one week of crying, uncontrollable depressive moods and effort to breathe and to move. I've started back on my fluoxetine and I hope I am getting a bit more settled.

Life is lonely, and it feels like I will never find my own special family and home. My depression further complicates every relationship in my life, and my wants and needs tend to wax and wane. However, ultimately, I want someone I can trust and I know who will listen to me any time and actively listen and respond, signs that he cares and he is making some kind of effort to help.

I may overthink things sometimes, but I don't like covering issues under the rug until all the mess explodes.

I couldn't help but cut myself last night, I didn't know any other release. The suffocating anxiety, depression, loss of will to thrive and the blind eye turned on myself after my cry for help. It's the easiest way out, to bleed and watch it drip down my arm, it gives me some sort of control and satisfaction. I can control this pain and I can choose how deep it hurts and when it can stop.

This is how I live, day by day. The point is, at least, one way or another, I continue to live. If I somehow try to keep on living, that must mean I have hope yet. It's not time for death yet.



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