Empty

There are a few times where I have felt like I have hit rock bottom.

What I didn't realize is that rock bottom had a basement, and several underground bunkers.

Now I am convinced that maybe there is no such thing as rock bottom.

Is it possible to just continue to sink into oblivion without ever hitting a stopping point?

I. Am. A. Mess. A hot one. (And not like Cindy Crawford hot, but like, a dumpster fire hot.)

(Dat me.)

What do you do when you wake up hopeless and nothing stirs your soul? When you have lost your appetite for not only your favorite foods, but for new adventures in life? When you hate people more everyday, and cherish every moment in the quiet, sereneness, bereft of human contact? Am I just preparing myself for death? I feel like a walking corpse. Nothing touches me deeply anymore. Nothing moves me. Responsibility is the only thing that I manage to hold on to. I have a responsibility for my family and few friends, but what happens when that isn't enough? Is it not human nature to live for yourself, at least somewhat? My disinterest in normal activities has caused me to lose grasp on reality. I've gripped tighter to the mundane, because it is an easy enough thing to hang onto, but what happens when I let go of that too?

In all the years I have dealt with depression, I have never felt detachment to this degree, apathy on such a solid level.

Well, those are my thoughts this evening. Thanks, as always for reading.

xx - Beth