I’m not gonna lie: it’s hard. And a lot of times I wish I was someone other than “me.”
I get really tired of depression. I get really tired of fighting it, and fighting anxiety. I’m tired of the pain in my chest when I sit panicked by the world.
Please just leave me alone.
I want to get better. I really do. And I try, and I fail, and I take more medicines, and I pray that they work.
My chest hurts so bad right now. It kills me to sit here every minute. I just want it over with. I’m ready for it to be gone.
It hurts, and it makes me want to cry. I’m ready for it to be done.
I just want to be normal, but I know that everyone hurts. Everyone hurts. But they’re not the ones sitting here in a battle that’s gone on for weeks. They don’t have to count the number of days since they broke their own skin for blood. Or maybe some of them do. But if they do, they’re like me — they know the pain, they’re tired of the war. We’re ready for it to be done.
One day it will end — hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Praise Him for the day that will come where sorrow will be no more. Every tear wiped dry, every eye clear, every heart glad. I can praise Him for that.
But for now, I sit here…and the pain in my chest just aches.
I’m ready for it to be done.