I promised myself last night that I would go out this evening and force myself to socialize. I couldn’t do it. The world outside of my bedroom just seems unsafe lately. I feel entirely too vulnerable and raw and I know it would take very little to break me. It’s like I’m made of thin fragile glass that everyone can see through, and what they would see is ugly and bleak.
I can’t seem to do anything that isn’t absolutely necessary for basic survival. I reluctantly drag this empty shell to work because I must have financial security, but most of the time I don’t give a shit about that either. If it were not for my dog and my parents I wouldn’t even bother showing up because it is so draining. People just don’t understand how tiring grief and depression are and how we just want to stop participating in life.
I’m struggling to find the meaning behind anything I do. All I really want is to numb the pain and sleep until it passes, but it never seems to go away. Sometimes I would sleep through entire weekends and Jason would try so hard to lift me up and tell me how good our lives were, and how we shouldn’t be anything but happy. His assurance could rarely penetrate through the darkness and I never realized he was right until now, but now is too late because he’s gone.
I find myself pleading for him to visit me in dreams and tell me that it’s going to be okay but he never shows up and I wake in the morning disappointed. I think he gave up on me too.