Depression.

It's awful. It haunts me like a bad dream. I can't get away from it, from the thoughts. My mind can only be temporarily distracted from the lingering dark fog. I don't enjoy much anymore. Life is just in passing. I'm not really here. I'm not really living. I just exist. I just take up space and resources. I am a waste. A waste of a life that could have been lived. A waste of my parents money and time. I'm an abyss of nothingness. I experience no joy. I feel nothing. Nothing but dread and dismay, for everything. Every single thing. It takes motivation and reassurance just to do the things I used to love. Everything is a chore. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I am blank. I dread each day. I dread waking up in the morning to this life. To living in my little world. I need out. I want out. I just can't seem to climb up. I don't know how. When everything seems like a bad thing, how can I ever move on with faith that things will be okay? I'm afraid. I'm so afraid. The unknown is just too much. I can't think and plan every move. And that frightens and pisses me off. The only thing I seem to care about lately is cigarettes. Because they are all I have left. If anything I always think 'Well, at least I have cigarettes.' Maybe a part of me loves it so much because I know it's killing me. I want to die. It's really the only way I see out. I can't live. I am pathetic. I am a loser. I am nothing. Nothing. Nothing. And I will never be something. I might as well not exist at all. What's the point? I am weak. I can't handle anything. I break under the weight of everything. I never feel good. I want to feel, feel anything besides this. I want to get angry at something, I want to laugh and smile. I am just so null. I want to have some enjoyment in my life again. I hate dreading everything. I hate not being anybody. I hate who I am. I hate what I've become. I hate me so fucking much I want to explode. The thing is, I'm always thinking of ways to change it up. Ways to make things better, but the truth is, I don't love myself enough to give the slightest fuck of an effort to changing it. I always think, well it will just end up the same. Nothing I want to change actually will change, only the circumstances will. Changing my looks is just a temporary fix. But dying eliminates the problem completely. I look at my life and I don't know how I can make it any longer. I don't think there is a chance in hell I can make it to even 40. That's such an awfully long time to suffer. I can't handle it. Everything just fucking fell apart, and I've been living in the fucking rubble for so long. At first it wasn't so bad. But now I realize I've created my own little hell. I have a sliver of hope that maybe just maybe shit can turn around. Maybe I won't fail at everything I fucking try. Maybe I could be good at something. Maybe I do have a place here. Maybe I am meant to do something. Maybe I will impact the world. Maybe I am here for a purpose. But then I just remember I am fucking nothing. I have no skills or talents. I have nothing. I am an 18 year old girl without a thing to her name. And when you're nothing you've got nothing to lose. It's a dangerous place. And I am teetering on the edge. Everything in me wants to fucking jump. Easy breezy.