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writing to write.
1:17 pm / 15.02.06

the funny thing about depression is that you can't write.

I swear to god, I have come here every day for about a week, and I can't get a single word down. I try writing about love, but I am NOT feeling love for anyone..

well, that's a lie I have a crush on someone, but It's not a consuming crush...
I've tried to write about my depression, but it makes me feel guilty. I have so much in my life, that being depressed makes me feel like a horribly spoiled bitch.

I have tried to write about random things, cats, sunlight, water, you know the usual things... But I just can't seem to do it.

I always end up writing something like this:

The pain I feel is bigger than me,
bigger than my personality
bigger than my hope.
If pain is real,
and hope surreal
and the sun shining
Why can't I grow.
bigger than the depression
bigger than hope.
achieve.


It sucks! it has NO meaning.. it's horrid. it just depresses me even more...

damn this depression,
damn it all to hell
someone said that depression is like a swimming pool,
you drown in it
get surrounded by it
sputter and squirt it through your teeth.
but i think it's bigger than a swimming pool.
maybe a block of ice.
bigger than a house.
hard.
cold.
melts you from the person you thought you were.
Once you've been with it too long, it melts into a puddle
a muddled puddle,
and that's what you drown in.
the mud blurrs your eyes
and you can't see out.
You begin to only see the depression
only see the mud
can't even begin to try to climb out.
what's the point..
the mud is comfortable.
enough.

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