ever since i could hold a pencil, ive drawn. ive had all sorts of story ideas. characters. comics. i could write jokes. i had so many plans.  


and suddenly, without warning- didnt even feel gradual- i just stopped. i stopped enjoying it. nothing feels good anymore. absolutely nothing.  


art doesnt seem fun anymore. i picked up my pen today, for the first time in weeks, and drew a single circle. i sighed and set my pen down and thought "what if i just give this thing away. im not using it" and it felt like a punch to the face.   


food isnt fun anymore, nothing tastes good. i have no interest in dating. no interest in friends. nothing. im losing weight because i eat maybe once a day and it aint much. i only eat to make myself stop shaking and thats it.  


i feel like im a cicada husk just stuck to a tree waiting to fall off and disintegrate. im not living, im slowly dying and just waiting.   
ive been playing video games more but theyre still not that fun anymore. brand new games never get downloaded or played. games i used to be really passionate about now just sit there and collect dust. i play a game for maybe a few minutes, get bored, and then mindlessly scroll through my steam hoping ill see SOMETHING that interests me.  


i quit working out, i quit jogging, i quit even playing with my dog. my mother mostly takes care of him now as i just cant even get out of bed. 

i dont know what to do anymore. im trying to find help, i really am. but the psychiatrist i had fucked everything up and didnt help. but even if i had therapy and medicine, would it help? ive been off and on medicines my whole life, with nothing to help. nothing helped my anxiety, nothing helped my depression, no medicine helped me feel better and my therapists kept throwing me around saying they werent equipped to help me.  


this is hell. i feel like i died and this is the hell im subjected to. im rotting in the ground and satan is having a great time watching me slowly kill myself, starting with my thoughts.