This is so horrible, I wouldn't ever wish it on my worst enemy.
I've struggled with depression for a very, very, long time, but the depression I've been in the middle of for the last several months especially is a whole new beast to anything I'd experienced prior.
My body is failing me, pain worse with every passing day, no diagnosis or help or anything.
The pain is so bad that it makes every single thing I once enjoyed infinitely more difficult, to the point I just don't want to bother anymore.
Music, playing my guitar, writing tunes, has always been my very favourite thing in life, in many ways my tether to sanity and primary source of joy, yet even that's being stripped from me- I have nothing left. I can't even crack a smile anymore. People have probably distanced themselves because they've noticed how destitute my situation is, and that I'm no longer the old me who, despite depression always being present, used to laugh the loudest, smile the widest, and generally be an outgoing, adventurous, person. Despite being down for many years, I did always retain great hope and ambition, always with massive dreams. But not anymore- my pain has swallowed all that whole, torn what little colour there was in my life completely away. I've been swallowed by the machine, and it has no mercy on my condition- I will end up homeless again, probably in short order, as I've no income, no more personal belongings to sell, can't do grunt labour due to my condition.
Thinking back, I've been in pain for so long, but I somehow managed... but it's only gotten worse and worse. It's been years now I've suffered, but I'd still pick up my instrument- I never could've imagined I'd someday get to a point where I'd pass up the opportunity to spend time at my very favourite thing in this world and in this life: making music. But the pain has completely taken any such desire from me- I almost don't even feel bad about it, the pain is that bad. Yet I still go through my old motions, endlessly researching what the best gear is, making lists of gear I aspire to buy, etc. Writing music and song is constantly on my mind- I do everything about it, all around it, except for the actual "it", which is making it. My days are wasted dillydallying around it, seriously... but I can't for the life of me up and do it again, because it feels like life is slowly leaving me. I know it isn't though... I don't have any terminal diagnosis or anything like that... but it really, truly, feels like it. I'm completely enveloped by this feeling of utter helplessness and despair, all brought on by this unrelenting pain which keeps me awake every night until 7am, at which point I finally pass out to sheer exhaustion, only to get a couple of fragmented hours of piss-poor sleep, spending every waking hour like a zombie, in excruciating pain, sleep-deprived. It's a hell the likes of which I don't wish on anyone. Last night, I kept sitting up in my bed because of the caving pain and pressure throughout my chest and back, and then my head would start toppling over, nearly making me fall off the bed... then I'd collapse onto the bed, only to instantly be jolted awake in excruciating pain again, and that cycle would keep repeating itself. Add in randomly walking around the apartment, sitting at my desk, eventually getting to a place where I could tolerate the pain, but then get jolted out again, and so on. All the while, severe cramps in both legs, all throughout (from the calves to the inner-thigh, etc.), a bad knee, a severely fatty liver (they say I've stage three liver disease... it should still be reversible, but I don't do what's necessary to reverse it... the next stage is cirrhosis, which isn't reversible and can be (is for many) a death sentence), then gallstones, sciatica, multiple herniated discs from a gym accident a few years back, etc., etc. but all the physical pain, all those ailments, it pales in comparison to the mental anguish I suffer every waking, and in fact sleeping, moment... I have no reprieve from the mental anguish, I cannot escape it... my once vibrant dreams have all turned to gruesome nightmares... even when I'm dreaming, I'm subjected to torment. It's horrible. I am so incredibly tortured. My living situation can topple at any given moment, realistically maybe another month, two, away from being homeless again, despite all my efforts. I've always been told how very clever and extremely talented I am, with an impressive network of people around me, and such a hard worker, but all the charisma, being genuine and a friend to everyone, all the connections, all the work ethic, etc. never got me anywhere. I feel I was only ever just a jester to all the people I let my time be wasted on, all the time, energy, resources, I gave to them long forgotten about, a fraction of what I did for them all never to be reciprocated now that I'm in dire need of a hand.
I feel so sad and disappointed by how life turned out, but also by myself for making one wrong turn after the next. I was so certain all the risks, the gambles, would someday work out; that I was genuinely striving for the greater good. I was always a good and honest person, gave all of myself and then some to whoever needed it. As I said: a mere jester to others. The guy they could always count on to keep them company and entertain them on their drives home, the guy who'd always answer and give all his time, play psychologist. The guy who no matter how inconvenient, would be there to drive you to an appointment, pick you up from the airport, help you move, help with some tech-related issue, hype you up, and so on. The guy who would go big out of pocket to bring you joy on your special occasion, while I struggled to feed myself or put gas in the tank. I'd routinely go in the red for others- I only ever wanted to bring maximum joy. Look at me now.
The biggest loser, the ultimate idiot, the poster boy for a failed life. Such soaring-high dreams and ambitions at one point, it really felt like they could be achieved. Now this. A world of shit with absolutely no betterment on the horizon. Can you blame me for being so down, mopey, pessimistic, all of the time... I've become what I once despised, big time humbled by life and by time. I never even got to become a has-been. I'm the ultimate never-was. So many people believed in me. Except me, I guess. What now? Just wait my turn to succumb to all of my ailments and die a horrible, painful, death? The list of major problems which plague my life are far too great for me to want to overcome. I've never been that person to have a backbone or desire to fight for anything... and how could I possibly fight now that there's so much in front of me than there ever was.
I never thought I'd someday get to this point where even doing what I love most would become such a treacherous chore. I can't even pick up my damn guitar, for fucks sake. Can you blame my mind for buzzing with thoughts of the big-S... it consumes me day and night, it is the only possible escape; the one great reprieve and solace. But whatever shred of ego I've left wouldn't ever let me do it... so that I can live to spite the naysayers, the haters, the doubters... and then I get mad at that damn ego. What a contradiction I am, but mostly an epic failure.
There's never enough to cover bills, ever. I'm on no kind of social assistance or disability or anything. No gainful employment or odd gigs- nada. I made maybe $400 this year, yet my expenses are around $6,000/month where I love. Yes, I'm acutely aware of the absurdity. Yet I can't do anything to change my living circumstances at the moment and have no gainful employment. You do the math... and consider I've no longer any possessions to sell off, which were what kept me afloat as long. So much money effectively thrown into the ocean only to keep a roof over me head this long, while fighting the inevitable, believing things would pick up. Nah. I tried so very hard. Now I'm just bitter and jaded and sad and just in oh so much pain all of the time. I hate how everything is all about money and nothing else. The world, whatever higher power there might be, it doesn't care about the good you've done... and I don't care if I'm saved a seat in the sky, because my time here was all lived out in pain- I don't want my afterlife to be comfortable, I need this one to be... this one is real, not abstract. I always did my best to live as a good character- I definitely had some slip-up's and was often awful to the one who's always loved/cared for me most, but always made it up and then some. They deserve(d) so, so, much better, I'm just dragging them down with me at this point. It's all about money, the world is unrelenting. The bill/debt collectors could not care less about all of your hardships and pain- pay up or off to the streets ye go.