I’m not a real person yet.

Everything in his life had come down to the sensation of her fingers against his. The person he was, the history he carried within himself, every joy and grief he had ever experienced, slipped way like an irrelevant garment. He was nothing but skin, speaking to another skin, and between the skins there was no need to find any words.
Kate Grenville, The Lieutenant (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

It wasn’t long that I was on generic Prozac…but that combined with out patient classes and going to therapy seemed to be a slow but a better process. I’ve been off it ever since I was in a relationship with someone who didn’t believe in it and I let myself get lazy as well with it. I’ve been doing so many positive life changes…yet I feel like my depression and mood swings are ruining my relationship. I never feel comfortable confiding in people and maybe I need to continue therapy. I’m not entirely sure what to do…but I wish I was supported and had someone who didn’t make the way I felt be so diminished compared to other problems. It’s not even that I hate my life or that I feel I’m unfairly treated, I just feel this overwhelming feeling of inner hatred and sorrow. It’s so angsty and dumb, but overall I miss being around those people in outpatient who I didn’t have to explain myself to but just knew. “What do you have to be depressed about?” It’s such a general question I receive but that’s not even the case. I have so much I’m happy about. I’m not displeased with any of it. Only this inner self who constantly puts myself down and when I try to explain it to my loved ones I only recieve that I’m being a baby. Am I? It is hard to live in a world with something that feels out of my control and which I do my best to control while others see it as a hindrance that I personally created. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. I’ve felt it for a long time. It only makes me want to isolate myself more as I try my best to put my best self out there. When someone you love sees you as something other than human for something that is debilitating and not easily shown is heart wrenching.
At times like these I seldom know who to turn to. And most likely that is part of my problem. Instead I enclose myself in my room and bubble. I know everyone feels this way sometimes but this happens to me inexplicably. And I’m even more fearful to say anything because my parents along with everyone else are happy to no longer hear my gripes and that I’m sounding better…little do they know I fall back into it so easily. I hate putting this on anyone else but me. And it sucks that a stranger is the only one who I can do that to, who is professional. This is just the way it is though. And said none better than bret easton ellis himself…this confession means nothing.