You can probably guess this wont be the happiest page in 'author chan'..
and if you did..your right..
but hey, I figure if undying inside and sad ghost boi talk about it why cant I?
the answer is 'anxiety' but im yeeting anxiety out the door for the amount of time its takes to publish this, or else I'd backspace the whole thing and you'd all never see it.
(some parts were taken from other explainations because I couldn't put it all into words by myself) but im therapy wrighting, so hush yourselves.
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explaining my depression

my depression is a shape shiftier, at one moment its only a small speck in the vast space of my mind and the next its the whole universe.

anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house inside of my head..
anxiety invited depression to the party..
and I am the party..
but its a party I dont want to be at.

My phone is right there..
begging me to talk to someone..
but the moment I go into my contacts anxiety silences me..
and when everyone asks why I dont text or call them..
I say my phone is dead..
but i usually wish it was me.

they tell me to charge my phone..
I tell them my charger is lost..
lost like the motivation that im pretty sure I never had in the first place.

they tell me to buy a new one..
and I tell them I cant afford it, im broke..
broke like the fractured pieces of what remains of my non existent happiness.

yes I make plans, I make plans but I dont want to go, I make plans because I know i should want to go and maybe I would've wanted to go, but its not that fun having fun when you dont want to have fun.

the ringing of a phonecall im not answering rings in my ears..
but I cant pick up the phone..
because I know who is calling..

I go on walks..
and as I walk..
i walk on an ocean of happiness that I cant seem to baptize myself in..

im not afraid of the dark..
but thats part of the problem..
insomnia has a romantic way of making the moon seem like perfect company..
and I know i should sleep but my mind can only count reasons to stay awake.

I dont eat, I dont eat because anorexia decides im not skinny enough..
that I wont be skinny enough till I have died from starvation.

I know eventually everyone I come to know will eventually die.

they ask me if I am afraid of dying
no im not afraid of dying..
I am afraid of living..
I am lonely..
I think I realised that when I first moved..
I learned to turn the neglect into lonely and the lonely into busy..
so when I say ive been super busy lately..
im staying up all night on my bed working on something productive to avoid confronting the mountain of inatiquicy looming before me..

ive been beaten, and bruised, neglected, abused, constantly used, and always accused
of doing something wrong.

the constant reminder of my inatiquicy binds me to my bed every morning..
a bed that i struggle every day to get out of..
and they ask me why I take so long doing anything..
its the chains of my depression dragging me back to my bed..
till I am but an empty husk with only an echo of a heartbeat..

they still dont understand..
but, cant they see..
neither can I.

it was never something that was understood..
its just always there.

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im fine.