#TheStruggleIsReal

Here I am at the bottom of the pit. My pile of unfinished homework broke my fall.

Who am I kidding, I can barely focus on a video at this point, how can I even make an attempt at this work? I’m feeling utterly worthless, broken, hopeless, a failure and the only thing loud enough to distract me from my pain is a pixelated hand digging tunnels underneath stone houses to block out creepers. I’ve been playing Minecraft for windows 10 for three days straight. My motivation, my willingness, my hope for the future, all my projects, my determination now lies buried beneath me in this pit with nothing but a straw to keep from suffocating.

I don’t deserve anything I have or anyone around me and at this moment I know this is true. I keep dropping things, I can’t think straight, I’m so tired, I have classes tomorrow and I just crave freedom. That’s all I want. I don’t want any responsibility, I’m not cut out for life, I’m completely and utterly useless as a citizen, as a daughter, as a girlfriend, as a friend. I don’t want to talk with crisis intervention again, those fucking people probably have dates marked on their calendar when to expect me. They probably have my mood swings graphed like a science.

It’s not an easy thing for me to express what I’m experiencing. Usually I let people tell me about themselves so I can give them advice and help them never feel like I do. This writing is very uncomfortable.

I’ll try and do some work right now but I know if I screw up on one problem I’m going to break down into more tears.

I don’t want medication. I really don’t. But I don’t know if I can accomplish what I want if I have to stop every few weeks, every month, every couple hours, every couple days to resist the urge to put a gun to my temple.

I had so many plans, so much happiness, the facade of stability again these last two weeks. I don’t know why I do that. I don’t know how I can convince myself EVERY. TIME. that I’m doing fine, that maybe I won’t fuck up again, that maybe all I need to focus on improving is my anxiety. Well here I am fucking up again. I can’t think straight. There’s a mental block. Every ounce of positivity is squandered by this unknown force and no matter how hard I dig to reach it, it keeps falling farther and farther until it’s glint fades to blackness and I’m left surrounded by the laughter of demons at my pathetic desperation.

On an average day, in an average mood, not too elevated not too depressed, I can give myself all sorts of pep talks, all sorts of positive comments on how well I’ve been doing, how well I can still do, how bright my future is. I can finish work, I can handle stress, I can do things on time.

Down here all I can do is watch. And that’s when I realize my life is just cycles of preparing for this moment. I get caught up on work, caught up on friendships, caught up on activities so when this monster hits and I’m chained in a pit, I can observe it tearing apart all my hard work, leaving behind futile scraps of what once was so I’ll always remember he’s in control of me.

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