  "The fact that a sick man laughs is surely no reason for not attempting to cure his sickness. " - Paul Robeson Ahh. Major depressive episode is a-brewing sports fans. I've been going over these pages, reading with disgust the whiny, boring, words that I have written.
If you have stumbled onto these pages by mistake, I am sorry. I am sorry for the pitiful nature of a girl lost, who is stuck in the abyss of sadness, wallowing in her own feces of self-doubt and lonliness. But I am trying guys. I promise. Have you been here before? My new therapist told me that my last therapist diagnosed me with dysthmia.
She's been going over what that means and the implications that has on my treatment and my life. Almost nobody recovers from dysthmia. It's rates are much much MUCH lower than people with major depressive disorder. Very hard to treat because unlike MDD, the depressed mood is intrinisic to the person, a part of who they are. She thinks it should be treated as a personality disorder. Yay, team! I have a fucked up personality. I feel like I push everyone away. I just don't know how to not do it. Putting a name on my moods and filling my world with fancy terminology doesn't make the tears stop.
Doesn't make the world any less gray, any less cold and bleak. Doesn't make the throbbing wound heal any faster. Nobody understands. But ever if they did, would it make it any better? So you know I'm sad, does that make you want to sit here, constantly reassuring me that I'm pretty, I'm smart, I'm blah blah blah? I wouldn't want to do it. It's boring. I can't expect anyone to want to. But I want someone to want to.
I want someone to give a damn. Oh and my mother. "You were just happy five minutes ago, why do you always have to ruin everything? " I'm sorry mom that I've ruined your life. I'm so very sorry that for 23 years I've been nothing but a burden that you've had to take care of. I'm sorry that in your eyes, you've been the best mother in the whole world and all I've been is a fat, unappreciative little brat who makes your world miserable.
I can't help it. I'm trying so hard to make you love me but I keep failing every single time. I guess if your own mother doesn't want to love you, who else will? "I worry that you'll never find anyone to love you. " Is this because you never loved me mom? You know that if you can't, don't won't, no one else will?
I'm starving for love. My insides are eating themselves, begging to be fed the nurture and devotion it's tasted maybe twice. Hunger hurts and I want him so bad Oh it kills Cause I know I'm a mess He don't wanna clean up I've got to fold Cause these hands are too shaky to hold Hunger hurts But starving works When It costs too much too love. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple 
