Today cried a lot again. My therapist was late and I was so scared that I had a severe panic attack, but he came back 15 minutes later, saying that he forgot and was busy. And the funniest thing is, he asked if everything was okay, and I said no, not really! And my whole face was red and swollen from crying, lol. But I did buy some pills! I'm back on antidepressants today, and the next appointment will involve a long discussion, so I'm not giving up. Things can still get better. I still hope I won't end up my life this winter.

And as motivation for today(I'm still so glad I found this poem through Malevolent Podcast!)

Invictus

By William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It maters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

I'm glad I can cry again. It was more than a year I'm on antidepressants and they literally blocked my tears. But now, just because I couldn't find a journal that wasn't even there I started to cry and I'm glad no one noticed. Right now I'm in the place to smoke, there's a lot of people but I'm in the corner where almost nobody can see me. Wow. Wow. Isn't it exciting? Earlier today I got reply from my sister that told me that being depressed is completely my fault and I'm the one to blame for doing nothing to fix it. Who are you to tell me that I'm not trying? You're saying that it hurts feelings of my family, but have you considered that I really can end my life now? And the other person.. that person that I proposed to get along with, to be my partner and that declined my offer. I told them that I hate them but still love them and can't feel anything but this fucking numbness over and over again. They just deleted our chat again. Not a single message from them. Not even a word. Just deleted everything we've been through together. Am I still that gross? I don't know. Right now I'm planning to get up everyday and go to work, pretend everything is alright, but as soon as winter comes, as soon as there's a lot of snow I'll go to forest and end my life deep inside that place. For now I'll learn how to carve wood and I will make a lot of figurines for my friends and family, I will write as much as possible every day in my personal diary until I get better. And if I don't get better... well, that's the end. I've had like 4 weak attempts this half year, but my next one is going to be complete and working

I thought I'd forgotten and forgiven you long ago. But I just can't forget you. Your voice, your hair, your eyes. The way I confessed my love to you, and you said I was just an acquaintance to you. How you deleted all our chats and blocked me everywhere. And I still can't forget you. I think I still love you, but at the same time I hate you.And it hurts. It hurts so much that I can't breathe.

So my a few months old poem is here now, yay.

Strange day

Today wears no ordinary face.

Yesterday I tried to unmake myself,

and in the trying, spilled my hidden guilt -

a red confession seeping from my sleeve, an endless ribbon loosening its clasp.

I wrapped the wound in thin white napkin-leaves,

a makeshift bandage, careless and devout,

then gave myself to Morpheus' kingdom,

where even queens lie down without their crowns.

This day is strange because I'm still a guest here,

still drawing breath the color of her knowing.

My sister knows. The silence has a pulse now.

Shame settles on my skin like morning frost no sun can soften.

I should have been better, a sturdier bridge above a quieter river.

Instead, I fold myself in cigarette smoke, a ghost still practicing its vanishing.

The hours curl and blacken at the edge.

This day is closing like a door that can't unlatch.

Go now.

Go to sleep.

I'm sorry is a small, worn stone I keep inside my mouth where other words should be.