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I feel so helpless and embarrassed, because I'd honestly believed I'd moved beyond this level of depression.

It used to take me a few days and a minor crisis to snap out of the daily routine (& internet withdrawal) and achieve at least some kind of mental balance.

For almost two weeks I've been feeling like a hamster in a wheel, thoughts running in circles on and on, without being able to find a way out. Everything i did, biking, reading, whatever, felt like running, running away from something, running after something, towards something but never reaching it, with barely a moment of peace. Increasingly frequent dreams of having some task I can't seem to accomplish, however hard I try. The state of mind when you can't bear to meet people, but can't stand the solitude, either, although it feels like the lesser evil, and can't tell anyone, because you really have no right to burden family or anyone else with this kind of stuff. I thought I'd moved beyond that, where everything seems so utterly bleak, trapped. And in some ways the vague knowledge that, probably, things will get better, bearable, again eventually makes it even worse, because it doesn't even allow you the (albeit questionable) luxury of giving up. Still enough to keep clinging. And in the end I know that I have only myself to blame, my weakness, and I'm trapped & torn between the arrogance that insists that I have the potential for something, that makes it impossible to really resign myself to the little steps, the small things, and be content with what I have, and the fact that I seem to be more and more incapable to reach anything of this, whatever it is I think I may have, or be; the knowledge that I'll never have the strength and energy to break through this circle reinforcing itself.

The occasionally desperate need to get away, when the thought of getting back to a mind-numbing job seems intolerable. Knowing I won't do it, because I lack the energy and the aim. Because I don't want anything hard enough, or I don't believe I can have/achieve it anyway, or because I'm afraid of the risks.

And it makes me feel like a failure, unworthy, and I don't even dare reach out to anyone, because I'd be a burden, I don't have anything to offer. And yet I can't seem to fix my life for myself, on my own, and I know just how pathetic that is. I can't make myself believe things that sound perfectly reasonable when applied to others. Trapped in this loop.

And in the end I'm so very tired of always picking myself up again, fighting for just a bit of normality, a bit of peace, without any real hope of happiness; and there's the arrogance again, always expecting too much.


solitary summer

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