As of today, that’s thirty pounds of the “before me” gone. Where did it go? Burned in the fires of stress and depression? Sublimated into the atmosphere while I slept? I wish it were just weight, but the soul of the “before me” is gone too. Gone are smiles and laughter. Gone is my inherent goofiness. I actually look like I’m wincing in pain when I try to smile (that’s a real conversation starter). And the loneliness. Killer. Depression sucks, man.
They are all gone… gone for now. These things can still come back to roost; I do believe that. I need to believe that. Someone could probably affect some positive change—help in some way—but, that would involve someone choosing to do so, which is unlikely.
When those who claim to love you refuse to even attempt to help you in any form, it makes you wonder about your own worth. It makes you wonder how an individual can sit idly and watch someone they love suffer and slowly die, when they possess the ability to end that suffering and bring you back from the edge. How does a person do nothing? I don’t understand. It’s inhuman.
I give up. I really do. I’ve run out of gas, so to speak. In the meantime, I guess we’ll just see where this road takes us. Someplace unpleasant, no doubt.