Regression

Yes, this is my third post today. Yes, there is a reason for it. Here I am again, playing spider solitaire, not being able to get my work done, blasting music as loudly as my computer will go. I'm almost tempted to put on headphones so that the volume becomes unbearable, but I haven't done so yet (although I'll probably reach that stage in about an hour). So why am I writing so much? Because I'm not talking about it. I refuse to talk about it. It shows my weakness, it makes me a burden to everyone around me, and it just adds to the hell wreaking chaos in my mind right now.

So instead of ruining everyone's day around me, I'm just typing...more and more and more, hoping that if enough words appear on my screen, the feeling will have sunken through my body entirely and be gone. But I know that's not going to happen. I'm curled up under my covers, taking deep breaths and choking back emotion. As usual, it doesn't work. It's here again...depression. More irregular now than before, but oh so much worse. Because before I never had any serious reasoning behind it, it was always petty misery and the winter. Now I have to carry the burden of my mistakes and failures on my shoulders, I have to try to suppress the bitter agony that I feel when I realize I haven't come to terms with anything.

I have regressed. Instead of getting better, I've gotten worse. I'm back to trying to avoid the world, to hold everything in and keep it bottled up, hoping for a miracle to allow me to escape this hole in the world. I just fell off the edge of the cliff and I'm still trying to get back on. I'm struggling against the power of my own depression, I'm fighting all of the things I've kept back that are starting to catch up to me, and I know that I cannot survive this flood the way I am. I'm a mess...emotionally, mentally...I don't know. It's all fallen apart. And I guess it's good it's a weekend, because if it wasn't I would have probably already broken into tears in the middle of something important and not only cracked my shield but buried myself much deeper in the hole than I have at present. Maybe I'm not getting anything done, but I don't care.

I don't want to be here anymore. There's nothing for me in this moment. And yes, I do realize the bitter contradiction between that statement and one of my previous posts about learning to see the beauty in every moment, but right now, I just don't see it. I want someone to help me, to show me. But I know that if anyone took the time to actually care about the mess I am right now, I would only hate myself more for ruining the day of someone who was actually enjoying it. Perhaps no less ironic: to everyone involved, I appeared to be having a perfectly good day. Even I almost believed it at one point.

But I wasn't. I've spent the day trying to fight back memories and emotions, struggling to stay afloat through the monsoon of failure that engulfed me today. I can't keep going this way, but here I am, pulling myself through it, hoping to survive through the weekend, then through the next five days, then through the next weekend, until I can finally get up and start moving forward again. Right now, it hurts too much, so I've curled up within myself, avoiding anyone and anything. I don't want to be saved, I want to fall through the earth right now, I want to feel myself sink down into nothing as I feel the pit of agony broaden in my stomach. I can't bring myself to live right now. It's as simple as that.