But, Baby, It's Cold Outside

The past few days have been terrible. Awful. Horrendous and incredibly, incredibly shitty. Thanks Universe, I owe you one.

In between bouts of unconsciousness and nonstop sobbing, I've been thinking about a lot of things. What sort of things? Oh, mostly my life. Mostly my life and what I'm doing with it. Mostly my life and what I'm doing with it and if I'm a huge failure. The answer I've come up with so far is (are you ready for it?):

I don't know.

Revolutionary thinking, right? Quick, I want to copyright that. Someone look into it.

Thinking about how much I suck has gotten me nothing except puffy eyes and an unhealthy amount of sodium. I stress eat beef jerky like nobody's business. (To all the cows that had to die in order to supplement my depression, my apologies.)

Yesterday in particular was rough. I came home, sobbed myself into a stupor and saw the dark hand of depression coming back for me. After all these years, it was finally back to claim me in the name of all those who had gotten lost before me.

"I'll bring you freedom," it said. I was terrified.

Lucky for me, I have some amazing people in my life who helped me out. And upon further reflection, I would like to say this to the depression that has come back and made itself welcome:

Fuck you. That's right. Fuck you right in the face, you silly bastard. You're not better than me. I will do everything I can think of to pull myself out of this hole. Oh, and this hole that I'm stuck in? Fuck that, too. I am better than this and I realize it now.

So here's to getting better. It's scary and cold outside, but I ain't stayin' here.