I seem to have writer’s block. I don’t see how talking (or writing) about what’s going on will help. It hasn’t helped in the past, and I have little hope that it will help now. Besides everything that I have that I need to say, I’ve already said, and I’m sure people are tired of reading the same thing over and over again. I’ll try for today, but I’m not promising how much I will write in the future.
So another depressing day at work. Another day I wonder why I live. I keep thinking that there must be a medicine out there somewhere that will help me, something that will give me some relief. But, then I remember that looking for something that works and helps is worse than the actual depression itself. Even if the medicine doesn’t have any side effects, just knowing another medicine has been marked off the list makes me more depressed. It’s one more thing that won’t be able to help me. Knowing that the list of things that would help has gotten one less shorter makes it harder to cope with this. Doesn’t that sound messed up?