I live with clinical depression. I have for years now. I'm sure you've all noticed these semi-occasional emotional/mental breakdown journal entries. I write them because I don't talk about my problems...

Why? Because I drive people away.

Everybody here sees me as the crazy, happy-fun time, girl who puts up hysterical comics, macros, and pics. Not a care in the world. Constantly happy and what not?

That's only about 10% to 15% of the time. Most of the time I'm near constantly depressed, constantly worrying about EVERYTHING, blaming myself, tearing myself apart mentally AND physically, and my happiest thoughts are of suicide.

Nobody wants to hear it. I used to talk to my friends about it, but they got sick of it. And I don't blame them. So...I keep it all bottled up until it bursts out and I write another depressing journal entry.

What brought this one on? Realizing that I serve no genuine purpose in existance. It's not fun going through life believing you shouldn't be alive. I know there are people out there with much worse circumstances than my own and such. But then again, no one can feel how empty I do inside. So since we can't feel what each other is feeling. So I guess I'll just suffer in silence and write another depressing log entry when the next wave hits.

Thank you for just letting me get this off my chest. I don't care if you guys respond or not. I just needed to say all this before I did something...I'll take it down later when that 10% to 15% rolls around again...as of right now this is how it feels to be me.