It’s odd, but not even sure I have much to recover from. I just don’t think that I’m meant to live long term. Every time I think I may have broken the surface, that I might be ready to live my life and not have the constant “but why are you really doing this? what actually matters to you?” hanging over my head, I’m sucked back down. I really don’t even know exactly what or where “down” is, but it’s a terrible place at which I often find myself. I hate admitting any of my problems or how disconnected I feel from myself, so if I ever talk about anything it’s with a certain lighthearted tone as to keep myself from being taken too seriously. But I’m honestly terrified. I’m terrified of living. It just doesn’t feel worth it to me. Yet, on the other hand, death scares me even more. Because while I do hope, and believe that God is out there and watching out for us, I’m not certain how much of that faith I really hold on to anymore. Too many terrible things happen and I’ve seen so much of it with my own eyes. However, a lot of the world is also quite beautiful, and so we’re back to “I just don’t fucking know.” I suppose you could say that I’m depressed, but that doesn’t quite feel like the proper description. So for now I’ll say that I’m lost and trying to find myself, but the me I’m trying to find is dead therefore I’m destined to spend my life hopelessly searching.