Every time I think I’m getting a lot better, I end up failing again. I take three steps forward and fall back four.
Every time I have another depressive episode/relapse (whether mini or major) I keep saying to myself “I won’t survive this again, I can’t possibly survive this again...” but then somehow I do, and afterwards my eyes glow a little less bright, my hopes are a little less high, and I lose myself just a little bit more.

I’m so tired of this. The same old fight over and over and over. This world is so dark.

No matter how much I love, I always lose. All the great people, all the great places, and all the great things. There and then gone. Back to black.

Life is a cruel joke. A rollercoaster. Torture. How am I supposed to survive another drop? Why would I want to? The high points aren’t worth it anymore (I don’t fully believe that statement, but that’s what the critical/rational part of my brain is telling me).

I feel awful whenever I’m around family, or almost any other people really. I feel like a rejected alien creature, even if I’m at a party or talking to people. I still feel removed and detached atleast half of the time. It gets better then worse. I’m cripplingly lonely. I have no real good community. Nothing else to look forward to. What’s the point of living like this?