Excerpt From A Book I'll Never Write (IV)

I'm getting worse. I'm getting worse and I keep telling people that I'm better than I have ever been. I've tried everything; men, alcohol, self inflicted pain, everything. Nothing works. I still feel like I'm tied to a concrete block sinking to the bottom of the ocean with no hope of catching my breath. I'm trying to tell myself that everything is going to be okay, but in all reality, I know it isn't. It's not going to be okay. It will never just be okay. But what the fuck is wrong with me? I have everything I could ever want in my life. I have so much to look forward to in the future. Why I can't I finally be happy for once in my god damn life. It's bullshit. Everything is bullshit. I'm just tired of the same shit happening to me. Meet someone, fall hard, they leave, I drink my sorrows away, I slice open my thigh and wrists until I pass out, I move on. It's an ongoing cycle of depression. I can't break out. It's like my happiness is locked away in my body trying to get free, but my body wants to slowly stand back and watch me die of sadness. I just don't think I can take anymore of this. I can't hurt myself again because if I do, who knows if I'll come back again.