Losing it. . . .

Sometimes I feel
Like I wanna leave this place for good
Under the ground
I'll live down there without a sound
And never hear
These hissing voices all the same
I'll disappear
Cause living makes me feel ashamed

I must believe
There's more above us and below
I must believe
Stranded with this bitch called hope
It keeps me here
When all I wanna do is go
It keeps me here
When all I wanna do is disappear

If this is it
When all we have and ever will
If this is it
Time is running out and standing still
I'll leave today
Cause there's nothing left to keep me here
I'll fade away
I'll turn my back and disappear

           - The Bravery
(italics added for emphasis)

I don't even know anymore. I don't know what I'm feeling or if I should trust what I'm feeling. I'm struggling right now. Grasping any little shred of hope I can. But I'm falling. I feel like I'm slipping.

I'm becoming more and more detached. I'm just . . . here. I'm only taking up space. I'm trying to feel. I am. And I don't. I hate this so much. I'm desperate. I've thought about taking pills . . .

Briefly. But the thought was there. I can't do this. I can't. I'm not strong enough.

What I'm feeling right now, besides the detachment, is the depression. It's coming back despite my best efforts. Despite being back on Cymbalta. Despite everything. And I can't . . .

I see M tomorrow. Chance on Friday. What do I do in the meantime.

Also? I took a break in writing this to cry. The big, ugly cry with snot everywhere. Had to hide it from my son. I think I'll cry more, too.

God help me.