To Whom it May Concern

I'm depressed. I'm not exactly sure how I got to this point. Well, that's a lie. I do understand how I got to this point, I just don't know how to escape from where I am at. I'm in therapy and learned plenty of coping skills, but my depression is getting worse. I'm hoping it's a side effect from one of my medications. How can you even tell the difference between a side effect of a medication and a side effect of just living?

I think I've grown more nihilist recently, making it hardest to tell what is made up in my head and what is being created by external forces. I can't tell if I'm lying to myself, other are lying to me, or if it's my meds. And I don't mean in a "having a psychotic break" sort of stuff in my head. I'm aware of reality. Almost too much at this point. I want to be able to just live, instead of thinking.

I've recently turn back into looking into the past, no pun intended. I'm sad about the future so I wallow in the past for how things use to be. Everything didn't feel so heavy when I was younger. And I think it really wasn't heavy, even when my brain cause derealization due to my anxiety, even with the panic attacks; I'd trade that for what life is like now. I feel like I'm in my mid life crisis, except I've getting these every 10 years...

I just reread "Perk of Being a Wallflower." It was better than I remembered. I wish I had a better way of describing how I felt about the book, but right now I can only think of nostalgic. Looking back at happier times, even when they weren't happy. They were carefree, dramatic, inappropriate, wild, calm, silly. I don't know if you can live life in that way anymore.

I also reread "The Great Gatsby." Also better than I remembered. Except now, I feel like Gatsby, except poorer. But look how Gatsby ends up in the end. Will that be me? Dead for trying to live in the past? Or dying while stumbling in the present? Will I be able to feel again?

I spend my nights looking for my green light, but it doesn't exist. Even a false bit of hope for the future is something I need. Instead I'm just looking at the past as if it could never exist again. The loneliness I feel fogs my brain and digs into everything I say, do, and think. I don't know which way is up; I'm drowning in a pool, unable to swim to take a breath.

So I sit here a write a letter online to no one in particular, in a style that is far from academically correct, and probably riddled with errors. But I needed to get thoughts out of my brain for a moment to someone who will listen and not reply, who knows not of my life, but just what is on this page.

Here is hoping things get better.