I know depression; I feel welcome there. To believe that my life may be full of joy, laughter and understanding fills me with so much fear of disappointment that I would prefer to smoke a cigarette and not believe at all. I either want everything to be magic and mythic or I want it to be dead. But I can't take the everyday living with small disappointments and fragile victories, the grayness of maybe-it'll-work-out and maybe-it-won't. I always feel the end is right around the corner, so why even try?
Sist sett
