It's not like Monday is a terribly horrific day, right? It's just another day, with the same schedule as every other Monday. So why is it that the smallest, most insignificant thing can set me off on a spiral. Why is it that I get depressed over nothing? I read an FML, and it sends me off. I do something subconsciously, and begin berating myself for it.
I have a chance at being happy. Every week I take that chance to get through and dash it. Why? I don't know. I don't know at all.
Sometime I do so well. With help, I can completely avoid it all together. Then I crash. Hard. So hard where it seems as if I haven't made any progress whatsoever. I don't even know any more. I just want it to end. The pain. The want.
Want for what? What do I want? I don't know. I just... I don't know. God, I thought I was past this. I thought I knew what I wanted. But it comes back. Different. It changes each time. Shapeshifting, almost. It's almost like there's no end. I don't know. I can't explain it.
I don't know any more. I just... don't know.
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