When you remind yourself that you don't want to be alive.
God, I hate depression.
I hate not being happy.
I hate that feeling when your heart feels like someone's squeezing it too hard or maybe poking with something a little too sharp.
I hate that I can't cry about my own situation.
I hate relying on everyone around me and feeling like nothing but a burden.
I hate not knowing when the next huge mood swing is going to hit.
I hate turning otherwise good nights into pity parties.
I hate how much this has consumed me.
I hate watching all of my friends grow up around me while I stagnate.
I hate realizing how much a slave I am to my physiology and my psychology.
I hate feeling exhausted even when I don't leave my apartment.
I hate not having a job.
I hate not doing things with my life.
I hate how I keep making my blog depressing.
And I absolutely hate that I don't have the energy or motivation to try to fix any of it because it all just seems out of reach.
I bet I come off as the biggest conceited jackoff to so many people.
I hate wishing for death.
I'm just... really tired.
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