I just tried calling 5 friends, all in different parts of the world. Most of them were out, living life. The rest went to voicemail. And that's what my life is about.
I've left Paris, that city that killed me but not enough to end this, but unfortunately I haven't been able to leave myself behind. Clinical depression, apparently that's what I've got. And what I'm starting to realize is that as far as a veridict it goes, people still don't take you seriously. You're still able to laugh it off in conversation, to make yourself the punchline, and no one will have their heart skip a beat for you.
My family keeps asking me, what do you want us to do? That just makes me angry. Would I really say the same if any one of them was going through what I'm going through? Because what I want, no, want I desperately need, is for someone to not have to ask. It's impossible to pull someone out of the darkness without joining them there first, but no one's willing, and the only person I have left to talk to is my shrink. How sad when you're left with no other option but to pay someone to listen to you.
I could try and explain to you just how tired I am of myself but no words can do it justice. I'm hanging on, and I'm doing it for them, despite the fact that it doesn't really seem like they need it.