I Battle Depression

I don't know where else to put this, and I don't mind if people look over it. With my journal being gone, I guess I'll do what I used to on EP, and just vent my life here. Things are looking up for me, at least depending on the angle you use to see. Yet I sit here, alone in the dark in a room meant for storage, with no real friends to call close. No people to care for. I can't function when I have nothing to look forward to. I ruined a lot, but I'm not the only one at fault for it. But the thought kills me regardless.


Imagine sitting on the edge of a cliff at night, the moon and stars lighting the sky. Shrubs peek out of the sides, the ocean sits below. Waves crash on the rocks and you dangle your feet off the edge. You could jump. You could end it all, even if it wasn't quickly. You could just sit there, and tease yourself with the thought of death but never truly want to embrace it. You can stand back up and set up a chair; take in all the beauty of the scene without it being something that makes you contemplate doing something awful. You can leave the edge entirely, and come back when the only thought is to listen to the ocean and watch the stars.



I am on that ledge. I'm stuck with my feet dangling. I cry at the thought of jumping. I cry at the thought of standing. And when I don't cry for either of those, I cry at the beauty of the ocean. The breeze and the light in the dark, the beauty of it all. The guilt washes over me, and I want the waves to wash me away so I don't feel it anymore. But I know I'll regret not staying until the sun starts to rise. Until the stars go away and light returns. The thought of losing the night and the sun rising kill me. I tug constantly back and forth, gaining the courage to stand for a time and losing it, only to scoot myself closer to the edge when I sit back down. I try to run away but the wind is too strong. Oddly enough, it doesn't blow me off the edge. It just fights me when I want to leave.


I love the darkness. I hate that I do but it's all I've known. The daytime is new... it scares me. Things come to life then, and it's beautiful, but there's so much going on. How can I function when all I've done is sit in the night and tear myself apart with awful thoughts? How am I supposed to walk away from the edge and return to the day? The beauty of the edge entrances me. It keeps me in love with a way out of all the situations and fears I never want to confront. Never want to admit. Never want to confess.


I cling to the edge, and the wind is my depression refusing to let me stay away too long.
I just want the sun to come up. I miss the sunrise...I miss hearing the world come alive. I miss being alive.


I hope this metaphor can put into words what I'm feeling, and that it wasn't just a rambling boring mess. To the few that read this, thank you. Thank you very much.