Stop the world...

For the past several weeks, I've been in this really nasty rut. The past 2-3 weeks have been probably the most tumultuous weeks I've had in a very long time. Despite the fact that I've had something positive happen in my life by meeting a really great guy, I sit here typing with tears streaming down my face. I'm inexplicably depressed, and my head keeps fucking with my heart, telling it shit to shatter it into a million pieces. I can't focus, have a diminished appetite, and sleep just never seems to come. When I do actually sleep, it's only for a couple of hours and I wake up somewhere in between. And did I mention the constant anxiety? Yeah, there's that too. There's not a second that goes by where I'm not gasping for air, trembling, or in a state of fight-or-flight. I have to drug myself to keep from losing my mind at the thoughts running through my head. It's an endless blur of chaos that keeps going round and round. Inside my head it's like being on a merry-go-round that's speeding out of control, but instead of seeing the faces of concerned passersby, I see all of my failures in life.

Somebody just please stop the world and let me off!

I'm damaged. Ruined. This is a really bad place I'm in right now, and I don't think I'm going to make it out. I don't even know if I want to try to. I don't see the point. Every time I claw and dig my way out of a depression, I end up getting my ass kicked right back down the hole. There's got to be a way.

What happened to life getting better? It hasn't for me. My life just keeps getting worse and worse. The complications keep getting tossed into the heap of shit that is my life. And at the end of the day, no one will care when all is said and done. I've failed at everything I have ever tried in life. I carry so much heartache and pain that I feel so hollow, a shell of a man. I just don't know if I'm going to make it anymore. I don't even know if it's worth it to try over and over again, this vicious cycle of wash, rinse and repeat. I don't even know why I'm writing about this. Perhaps it's my last ditch effort to find some sort of resolve. They say writing can be therapeutic and since I don't have anyone to talk to, I figured this would be the next best thing.

I could go on and on, but I think that I'll just carry on. Walking down this empty road, with an empty heart, and nothing to show for all that I've been through but a handful of scars.