Love is a Fool's Pursuit

Very rarely does anyone actually mean to hurt someone.
Especially when it is someone they love, or someone they care about deeply.

But it happens. In the silliest of ways. And in the most painful of ways.

Not because the intent was to hurt.

It just happens.

The wrong words, at the wrong time, usually.
Best intentions, other times.
Lack of communication, as well.
Many causes, one result.

The cynic in me feels like I just can not win.
The optimist in me runs on hope with a jolt of "someday."

Then all the other voices argue, and agree:
Never someday, better off alone, because love fucks you up, right when you think you are ok being alone; like a hurricane, like a storm, someday you'll fall like rain, someday, it'll be ok. Someday, I'll be gone and I won't fucking care about it anymore. Someday i'll be a believer. When you stop looking, it'll find you, you'll find it.

Love is worth it...Really, trust me on this.

Depression

For me, It isn't sadness. It isn't waking up and wanting to cry.
It's waking up tired. It's waking up, too tired to cry.
It's waking up and thinking about the things you want, and only seeing how unreasonable and far those things are from you.
It's waking up with goals, but being too tired to follow them through.

Depression, sucks.
Depression isn't necessarily wanting to kill yourself.
It's being convinced that if you died, or just faded away, nothing would be really different.

And hope hurts, because you lack the strength to do much of anything.
So much effort, for the littlest things.

I'm not depressed like most people. I'm not depressed like some people. But I guess we all get depressed, in our own ways. And we have our ways of coping, or forgetting.

Not everyone self destructs in the same way.

Some people it's easy to help, because the problem is apparent. Snatch away the bottle, the needle, the porn, the objects of abuse. The people who they abuse. The things they blame. Forcing them to confront themselves, because they have no choice.

But it's different for me. I have no obvious problems. At least, nothing we have a cure for. When life is stacked against me, I am ground down just a little more.
Paranoia and distrust, do nothing to help me ask for help, not that it matters because I do not know how to be helped.
Because I look fine. I'm not addicted to anything. I'm not killing myself by inches with anything clinical professionals diagnose and rehabilitate frequently.

I can't explain, how hopeless I feel. How tired I feel. How, even the smallest bit of hope seems so far away, because I lack the strength to grasp it. When the things I want seem so far away, with the odds stacked against me.

That's what depression is for me. Or rather, just a slice.
Can't ask for help because you don't know how anyone else can help.
And everyone is just waiting for you to ask. That's painful.

I need time to sort things out.