By this point, my page stats tell me that no one really gives a shit what I write here, so I'm going to go ahead and just treat this like a diary.
Going on a trip, tomorrow. I've never been gone longer or farther. The inherent unknowns are, of course, terrifying. There would be less unknowns if I had paid attention to the planning phases, but I've been spending so much time trying to numb myself to my existence that the time just wasn't there. At the same time, the caring is not so much there either. Parts of me care, perhaps even a majority, but the insurgency of my intense depression has hampered efforts at all but the smallest personal gains.
You can read everything they've put in the textbooks about depression and still be no clearer on what it actually feels like, what it means to a person. It means sometimes not having the energy to climb the stairs, let alone get something done in your life. It means not expecting anything good to happen to you in the end, based on previous experience. It means watching friend after fiancée after friend abandon you for no reason you can understand. It means a daily struggle with the temptation to off yourself, to stop hurting in the only way you can imagine possible.
Maybe while I'm away I can get in a few consecutive hours without miming a gun to my head or a rope around my neck. That would be a relief.