The Depression Diaries, n°72 - I want to tell you a story

I want to tell you the story of how I made it. I want to tell you how hard some days were, when I felt nothing at all and on those where it was too much — it was too hard to breathe, you know? I want to tell you the story of the beauty within pain, the story of the plants that thrive and grow through concrete cracks, I want to show you that, hey, that was me. I want to tell you how I was ripped apart when I had to let go, but I want to tell you that I survived. God, I just want to tell you that I made it. I want to make it. I want to be more than just this aching heart, a whole person with a future just like anyone else.

I want to tell you that I abandoned it here because I made it. I want to run out words to say not because the end of this story is near, but because I moved on into a new story.

But I didn't. I spent my youth drowning in sorrow and I'm still drowning, so I understand it's not a pretty sight to have. There's no beauty in pain, there's nothing to thrive on. I'm afraid I'm nothing but this, and this, darling, this is not what anyone imagines for their child.

I want to tell you the story of how this life became worth living, but I'm not there. I'm not even sure how I'm still here.