Just Write – Depressive Thoughts

There’s a place I go when I close my eyes. I don’t know exactly where it is, or why I go there, but it exists and I do. A familiar environment that looks different every time I visit. My dreamscape. The place hidden behind my eyelids. This time, it wasn’t safe. I had to fight for survival earlier, but not before enjoying the benefits of interacting with other dreamers, me being lucid. Maybe…maybe it was my subconscious. Regardless, I knew I was asleep and made full use of my abilities. I think I got too excited and woke up early in the morning, but the depression put me right back to sleep.

I’ve…I have been feeling it a lot worse nowadays. Things that I have been trying to ignore are coming to the forefront. I was ignoring how I felt so well, only suffering briefly in moments that were real, but now? I feel terrible. They say your environment plays a part, but who knows. Part of me wants to just fix up this environment and get moving, but I don’t know if I’m capable. Rather, I’d rather indulge in the despair. Suffer first, reprieve later. All of the suffering is internal anyway. Looking at it, things are in my favor. There’s absolutely no other way to view it. Things aren’t the way I want them to be though…

I think that’s the issue. I don’t know what it is that I want. I don’t know what it is that I’m working toward. I have vague targets that I’m bound to hit and a general idea of what the future holds and the wherewithal to achieve those at a minimum. But my destination? That is the issue. Logically, I haven’t decided anything, but emotionally I have. I’ve tried to ignore it for the longest, but how could I? I seep nothing but emotion through my fingertips. It was for only so long that I could keep it from spilling into the places that it mattered: my head and my heart.

But who cares. I know thinking about it won’t change a thing. I know laying here won’t change a thing. I know feeling this won’t change a thing. Maybe that’s why the words I say won’t change a thing. I suppose it’s time for autopilot. To go back to the days where my body worked and my mind did not. I don’t think anyone could ever call that living, but it hurt a hell of a lot less. Given the internal circumstance, that’s the best I could ask for.

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