Today, I went to the city with a bunch of friends who are all home for the holidays. I should have been having a great day. I got to hang out with some great people, we had a great time at the wharf. Fun stuff! So why didn't it feel that way? I honestly don't know what word I would use to describe exactly what emotion was going through my head. I know depressed would be floating around in there somewhere. All I know is that by the end of the day, I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. There was a moment looking into the water at a fountain, that a glimmer of the old me, the depressed me came back through my reflection and that scares me. It scares me how easily and quickly I can go from totally okay to thinking about how easy ending things would be. I don't ever want to act on that feeling. But what if it gets worse? What if one day, that fear doesn't come and that part of me stays more than a moment? I hate living like this. Wondering when the depression will strike again. I never want to tell anyone that I'm even struggling because I don't want to bring anyone else down with me, but there are so many times during the day that sometimes I need someone to just give me a hug, or ask me if I'm okay. And unfortunately, I know that can't happen. I know there not always going to be someone there to keep me grounded. I just hope there will be someone when it's really bad. Because I don't know if I'm strong enough on my own.
With Love,
PolarBearMoose <3
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