Wednesday, October 4

Can't stop myself from crying so much. Hitting my hands against a pillow, shaking. Feeling like screaming, bawling. Can't stop bawling. I don't know why I'm this sad. Why life seems so lonely. In this jam packed planet we all live our own lonely lives in our own heads, like flickering lights of old motels in a vast, vast wilderness, unable to connect to one another except fleetingly and by chance. There are people who feel loved, safe, secure in their sanity, who know the floor isn't going to drop any second, who can play at being sad and pay homage to life's tragedies. I've been this person at times. Then there are people for whom it's nothing to be messed with; even to write poetry about it dresses up what is such an ugly thing. Real depression is so ugly, real anxiety so unfunny and unsporting.

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