Depression hasn’t diminished. It’s hard to sit around work colleagues pretending nothing’s happening.
And in fact it isn’t. I’ve done well at work, no one in my family is ill –more than they’re used to– and I have food on the table.
That should do, right?
But it doesn’t. I wish it would. I wish the sole fact of being alive was enough to ease the pain. I wish I could be grateful for everything I’ve. I wish I could really judge things as they are.
The devil is in the detail, they say. However, it’s because of those details that I’m still here. I want to carry on watching good films. I want to continue challenging myself and proving that I can do it. I wish I could stand down the rain and get soaked whilst smiling. I wish I could eat everything flavouring the taste with every bite.
There is one moment where I don’t feel the sadness and the exhaustion in my body: when I’m working. And that’s only because I’m required to function properly to complete the tasks.
Work has become my man now, I was addicted to men before, but now I’m a workaholic. Why can’t I keep a balance?
I don’t know where I’m going anymore, I only hope it’s nice..
PS. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHO6pbjQ9ec
nocureforme 