I had no life outside of work, and slowly my performance got worse and I was let go a few days ago. I wish I could've done better. I wish I wasn't such a failure in every aspect of my life, the shame is eating away at me. 

Now I'll have to look for another job, even though working makes me feel so dead inside and I know the same pattern will repeat. I'll start feeling alienated from my real self, I'll feel like a robot. Is this all life is? I get those thoughts constantly, I start feeling like I'm not real. I can't even function well and everyone notices it, I'm like a shadow in a corner everywhere I go, an invisible girl. Everyone around me is laughing and sharing their stories, and I can only offer a mirrored smile and try not to feel like such an outsider, looking into a life I don't have. It comes so easy to them, and as hard as I try to be like them, I'll never be.

I don't think I'm made for this world, not really. I feel too much, cry too much, hate the way society is too much. I'm too timid, too weak, too sensitive. I didn't think it could be depression, I thought I was seeing the world for what it really was and everyone else turning a blind eye or being ignorant. The world is mostly bleak, the 9-5 grind is soul draining and violence and cruelty are endless–there are so many things I just can't ignore. But then I look at other people and I see how fulfilled they are with the same job I had, with the kind of life that would drive me crazy. How are they so happy? I don't understand. 

I don't even want much. I don't need materialistic stuff or holidays, I just want to feel safe and secure. But I spend my days in bed, zoning out to music and daydreaming of a different life where the world isn't as miserable and I have someone that loves me. When I end up crying, because I always do, my thoughts get so bad I have to get up and go cry in the shower because the hot water is the only comfort I have. 

I used to write as an escape, it was a way of turning my feelings and past trauma into something good, but it made me so deeply unhappy looking at the kind of basic things I wanted, like someone to hug me. It was the only hobby I had, and then it became torture. Right now, my mind is completely blank. I don't know what I want from life. I don't want to be here. Everything feels meaningless. I'm just repeating yesterday over and over, I'm just maintaining.

I just lie in bed.

I just... exist.