I sometimes wish I could erase myself. Not just start over, but cease to exist - like I was never here to begin with. No past, no pain, no weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
But it’s not about wanting to die. It’s about not knowing how to keep living when every day feels like dragging a body I no longer recognize through a life that no longer feels like mine. It’s the exhaustion of carrying a heaviness no one else can see. The ache of knowing that no matter how loud the world is, I still feel alone.
Depression doesn’t scream. It doesn’t announce itself. It’s the quietest thing in the room, slipping into your mind like a whisper: You don’t matter. You’re too much. You’re not enough. The world would spin just fine without you. And maybe the worst part isn’t the sadness - it’s the numbness. The way it drains the colour from everything, until even the things you once loved feel dull and far away.
And in that darkness, it feels endless. Permanent. Like there is no way out.
But listen to me - that is the lie.
The truth? This is not forever. No matter what your mind tells you, no matter how convincing the emptiness feels - you will not feel like this forever.
You don’t need to disappear. You don’t need to start over. You just need to hold on. Because there is a version of you in the future who is so damn grateful you did. A version of you that wakes up one day and feels something other than this weight. A version of you that laughs without forcing it, that dreams without fear, that breathes without hurting.
Stay for them. Stay for the tiny, quiet moments of light that will find their way back to you. Stay for the chance to prove that this pain - this moment - doesn’t get the final say.
You are not broken beyond repair. You are not too far gone. You are here, and that is enough. Please, just hold on.
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