The winds of change rarely bring anything good with them, here my world, in my dysthymic haze. This haze means I never feel well and over the last few months or so I've felt worse. A few weeks ago I found I had plummeted to the very bottom of the Pit. Now the bottom of the Pit might be preferable to some places. It is safer down there. At the very bottom where no light can penetrate and the very idea of hope is only an illusion I find myself incapable of doing much more than converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. This does mean, though, that I am also rendered incapable of taking my own life, no matter how desperately I may want it. So yes, safety wise, the bottom of the Pit is preferable. But it is also torturous. And for the past three weeks or so I have existed there. Too far down in the Pitt I could not be bothered even to end my own life. But I was no less desirous of the end. The overwhelming desire for my own end plagued my waking hours and stalked my dreams at night. How I longed for the end to come. I prayed nightly that God would please erase me from this world so that I might be no more and others experience no pain from that which I desired most.
This morning was no different then the other mornings. I found my way back to bed after only a few hours up; hours spent on the couch doing nothing. For three hours I lay there with barely a thought in my head. And then I got up and was... fine. But not Normal fine... a confusing fine. Maybe it wasn't so much fine as it was just not as bad, I don't know. But now I'm just an emotional wreak. I rarely cry but I often want to and right now the smallest things cause me to want to burst in to tears. I don't know which I find preferable. I think, as crazy as it sounds, I prefer the bottom of the Pit; at least there I know what to expect. The familiarity of it, at least, is comforting.
*shakes head* I don't know.
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