I have trouble making decisions, and I feel like a loser, and I second guess and trouble myself over the stupidest things. I don't know why.
I'm trying really hard to keep it all together, but it's awfully tough going. I have writing projects piling up like accidents on the freeway. I'm a bystander watching them crash, feeling the concussion from the impact, wincing as I see the bodies and feel the broken glass shatter at my feet. But I really don't care.
This is from my journal — written during the low point in my battle with depression, a struggle that probably began four years earlier. Life deals us all ups and downs, but depression starts when the downs last more than a couple of weeks and begin to take root.
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