and on my deathbed or wherever, i look back on my life and there’s nothing because i was so fucking depressed that instead of going out and living experiences we were meant to live, i had slept my life away. 

never went to that party. never went on that hike. never went swimming. never watched the sun rise. never finished building that minecraft city. never baked that cake i’ve always wanted to try making. 

all because i was too fucking depressed to get out of bed. 

and i don’t want anyone telling me that now that i know this, time to get off my ass and go out there. it takes every inch of my willpower to get up to brush my teeth, let alone go outside and do stuff. everything is so fucking hard. even if i did finally get off my ass, could i even enjoy it?