I am losing.
This past week has been one of the most tortuous of my entire life.
Depressed, bed ridden, tear streaked face, empty stomach, weak body, cold fingertips, numb mind, suicidal thoughts. Why does life have to be so hard? Life isn't suppose to be this complicated. Life is suppose to be full of challenges and obstacles you have to get around or over; but, life is not suppose to be this fucking tiring, tedious, toilsome. Eight months ago life wasn't this exhausting. Eight months ago I was happy. Believe it or not, I was happy. I think I had to retype that sentence to convince myself rather than you. I remember a time when I didn't want to sleep because everything was going so well. I remember enjoying daily things: checking the mail, brushing my teeth, watching a TV show, listening to a song on repeat, walking my dog. Daily things that every person should enjoy. Eight months ago, I was happy; but now, it is getting so much more difficult to recall that happiness.
"I was happy," I thought to myself this morning, as I sat in front of my mirror, contemplating life and what the fuck I am even doing on this Earth. I do that a lot. Some daily ritual. Sit in front of my shitty mirror, feeling shitty, crying shitty tears, feeling this shitty depression creeping into my bones. It is in my bones.
Adeline, you were happy once.
I was happy once.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago in a far, far away past, I, Adeline, was happy.