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Lately I've not been myself so much as I was months ago and I have been slowly descending down a road of depression. Now, before the sirens start to call, I am not clinically depressed or wanting to commit any form of self harm. It's more of a situational depression as my counselor described it. Relentless family issues, homework stresses, fleeting images of future goals, the questioning of the pieces that make me whole, diminishing self esteem, all those things. For a while I've been in these situations, but knowing my time to graduate is nigh, I can't bear the thought of never seeing my teachers and fellow classmates as much anymore. The school I've been going to for as long as I remember has treated me well and still is. The staff are reassuring and kind, and the students always know how to cheer me up. Sure, I know a few outside of campus, but contact eventually fades, and after tearing apart the ties that hold me to some of my good friends, that scares me. I want to know they will hold me in their hearts even when contact fades. That will be enough to make me happy.
When I talk about depression, I imply that I am experiencing a lot of distress both physiologically and psychologically. Trouble sleeping, lack of interest in the activities and amusements I used to enjoy such as not wanting to do the things I deliberately procrastinate on schoolwork for, becoming highly irritable and irrational at the worst of times, and having no energy reserve to do what I want... but then again, I have always been lazy.
While there is just too much to say in one journal entry, I can say that I've, in general, just been... not... feeling right. I can't seem to pinpoint what I want in life, and when ever I sit down and make decisions, I can't, for the life of me, fulfill them. That is why I've stopped making promises. It hurts me knowing there's a possibility I will not fulfill said promises. And, hell, the family issues? The family issues are where seventy percent of my depression originates from. My parents are ignorant, thieving, misguided, bothersome morons, and my living conditions are just getting worse healthwise. Yeah, I know, I have a roof over my head and it could be a lot worse, but please... mom, stop yelling at me and calling me a "heartless stupid fuck" when I don't care about a picture of your friend from thirty years ago. Don't say I'm going to die alone with no-one at my funeral. It's bad enough as it is when I have to deal with you people every day because I can't seek refuge in the room I do not have.
And... dad... if I hadn't thrown those moldy strawberries and sponge cakes away, you would have gone to the hospital. No. No, you couldn't have cut around the mold. It's a fucking strawberry.
All of these feelings are more than likely normal and usual for someone my age, and I can accept that, but because it's happening to me, it is significant to me, and that is why I am making it a big deal. ...I need time off.
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