one day you will wake up refreshed, drink coffee and be able to read a book the same way you did when you were little. you will have a cat who curls up to sleep on your lap or a playful dog who is happy to see you. you will be the kindest you can be, listening to stories, and checking up on people often. you will make pancakes in the morning and decorate your abode with plants, your old paintings and cozy cushions. you will fill photo albums with blurry photos of your new friends and road trips and summery evenings. you will visit your favorite bakery and library often, and keep in touch with people you love. things won’t be perfect, but you’ll be at peace with yourself and you will be in love with life again.
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I have felt perpetually behind for the majority of my life. In ways that I cannot exactly express, things have just not come naturally for me as they have for others. It seems as if hard work and caring for others is no longer valued in our society as it perhaps once was. Instead we are consumed by jealousy, fueled by hatred of one another while trying to surpass our peers in terms of career success, financial stability, and the consumption of material objects. Can we blame this entirely on the era of social media? I’m not sure, but that definitely plays a part. It might be nice to acknowledge those thoughts as opposed to reflecting on how my depression has negatively impacted my life’s trajectory in so many different ways. I have failed myself on multiple occasions, more so in the last couple years when I’ve really needed to showcase my strengths and abilities. Nothing feels possible when you’re consumed with the thought of not wanting to be alive. And so I’ve made those excuses for myself for all these years, sitting comfortably in the box that I created.
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