You know…I wanted to write. I really did. But the things I want to say just seem so….self-centered, self-obsessed, and self-deprecating. When I am writing here, I see the things I am writing through the eyes of people who have come to know what I will write about, what I have to say….because I am a fucking broken record. And then I feel ashamed and embarrassed to write. What am I saying that adds to anything? What can I say that is new – the pressure is so high to be engaging and interesting.

But really, the only thing I have to write about is depression and the effects of that depression. I took a few months off from this outlet, to give you and me a break from my depressing words. But three months later, and I find myself lonelier than I think I have ever been since I was a child/teen. But who really cares? No one. And I don’t really want anyone to care tbh. It’s less embarrassing for me to complain and tell you about my life without constantly fearing judgement and expectations.

I have a lot inside that I need to sort out – I don’t even know where to start! I’ve got this great big knot in my stomach and I am somewhere between anger and bitterness and sadness. Except, I don’t know how to effectively process all of these emotional upwellings and I just keep constant noise on around me to help me push it all WWAAAAYYYYYYY down deep deep deep down. And this is how I have been existing for….well, for the better part of a year now.

When I experienced that extremely traumatic event at Dragoncon last year and the betrayal of someone I trusted, I took a deep dive into depression, as you may well know from my documenting it. I thought that was the deepest I could go into depression, as I have never experienced a depression I couldn’t eventually will myself out of. I felt…nothing. I shut down. I pushed everyone away, mostly. But now, looking back, a lot of that ‘depression’ was actually just pain. A whole lot of it from losing someone that I trusted, someone that I admired, someone that I loved.

But then, I learned that my best friend, the one single person on this planet that I have EVER allowed in, who knew all of my secrets, who felt like what I imagined having a conjoined twin would feel like, revealed that he was not the person I thought I knew at all. Everything had been lies and faked and hidden. I still don’t really know why. Then he too disappeared. I can’t explain to you the state of mind I was in. I was ‘ok’. I was fine. I kept up with the things I needed to do, I made other friends, I ate, and I laughed with people, and it didn’t phase me. Or so I thought.

Apparently there is a place your mind goes when its reality is completely shattered. I don’t know where that place is – but I don’t really remember much about the last three months. Everything is a fog, with small glimpses of memories here and there. I looked at myself today for the first time. I gained 30 lbs. I’m breaking out. I can’t remember the last time I brushed my hair. When did I last shower? There’s a dent of my body in the mattress because….I have barely left my bed. 3 MONTHS. 3 MONTHS. I looked at my home – I don’t even recognize it as it’s completely trashed and it smells….weird. I’m out of breath just trying to walk. My feet hurt if I stand to long…and so does my back. My attire for the last three months has been sweat pants and tshirts with no bra. I sleep all day. I can’t sleep at night because of nightmares so I force myself to stay awake as long as possible until I fall asleep without realizing I do. I sometimes cry in bed over the loss of someone I loved, I cry over my life, I cry over my failures, I cry over the state of the world. Then I sleep more. Cry, sleep, cry, sleep, maybe some school work if I can pull it together enough to make deadlines.

THIS is what depression looks like, when it’s so bad that you need professional help. But, I don’t have that. I have one friend that has no other friends here and that makes me feel some sort of obligation to at least get out of bed from time to time and do SOMETHING so that he doesn’t feel as alone and depressed as I do. Sigh…my best friend and I sort of made up. Sort of. He blames me for a lot of things which I don’t agree with, and he said a lot of mean things that really fucked with my head. He shamed me for complaining about things that happen in my life. He shamed me for my feelings. He accused me of blaming everyone else for all of my problems. And now when I want to write about things happening in my life, I don’t want to write at all, because nothing is actually happy. I am not there yet. I don’t have a great life like he does. Now all I feel is shame and fear in all of my thoughts and words because I feel like I will be attacked or laughed at when I express the hurt inside. As if, I don’t deserve to feel anything because I am a bad person.

And I’m completely stuck somewhere where I don’t know who or where I am. The two people I trusted and loved hurt me badly. The one person that I thought I knew inside and out and that I let in was not even a real person. Where do I go from here? Our ‘friendship’ just hasn’t been the same. Nothing is the same. It feels like when we text now, it’s just superficial and fake pleasantries. That closeness that I felt is gone. He is a ghost of the person I thought I knew. And what we had (or what I thought we had) will never come back again. I’m devastated. It’s like I’m grieving over TWO deaths. I don’t know what’s real anymore.

Now that I sit and I think about it, maybe I am also a ghost of who I use to be. I am no longer the active, kind, warm, inviting, and genuine person that I use to be. Billy and George both tore me apart and now I….I just cant trust anyone anymore. All I feel inside is fear, and caution, and closed off. I just…wow, I just want to lay in my bed and stare out the window and cry more. Then sleep. Wake up, cry, press my hand to my chest to work out the weird chokey knots that well up, sleep… That reminds me of a line in a song, “Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts and don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours”.

Nothing will ever be the same for me, and honestly…I don’t know where to go from here. I just….I guess I just wanted to get some of this off my chest. To tell someone, anyone…who will listen. I don’t feel connected to myself anymore. I don’t feel…whole.