Won a fight, still losing the war.

"Just because someone with depression is having a better day, it doesn't mean that person got better. The day is still grey, but without any rain."

Today, it poured.

It's interesting how when in need of someone, you always find yourself alone.

It's so difficult for me to talk about my depression to anyone, but it feels easier to write about it. Maybe because I'm not really expecting the reader to engage and take interest, espescially because if I'm talking to someone they usually feel obliged to respond. While writing an entry about this feels easier - like I'm not expecting any feedback, yet I'm doing what the lady in counseling told me to do - telling somone about having a problem. And it also kind of feels like I'm fighting back (which I have done my whole life in some way) and not just drowning. I want to fight, however there are time when I have no clue how to.

Today, I broke down again. And again I was all alone in the storm. The tempest took me by surprise and I couldn't do anything about it, I couldn't fight, I couldn't move; and worst of all I couldn't get help from anyone. I was alone and that only made the heavens pour down on me harder.

The worst on the whole thing was the fact it hadn't been the end of my day yet. I was only halfway through. I still had to go on, even though at that very moment I felt like giving up on life. Completely.

People think depression is something unreal; something people just come up with to be in center of attention for those five minutes during which somebody listens to them. I wish. I so wish that was my case. Panic attacks come more and more often; and they get stronger and stonger. On top of that there are the memories of the "sunny" days. Like silence before the storm. They only make shit worse.

I smile. I laugh. I look happy. I look okay.

But I'm not...

On the inside I'm in pain. I'm crying. I'm dying. Slowly, but surely.

It hurts...

-Misha