67 Days Until Brazil

I’ve been in a bad place for about three years. No, I guess four. I’m being a bit lenient on myself because three is a little too low of a number. It’s been such a struggle to get out of bed and get myself to do the things I have to do. Has it gotten any better? No, it’s always been pretty fucking bad. It’s just that now I have to pay bills and do all this other shit. It gets in the way. I just have to make myself do it. If I don’t do it then I’m gonna have to get a fucking job, and that’s a fucking hassle that I don’t need right now. It sucks. I feel depressed all the time. I have to tell people that I have a mental illness, but I’m not really depressed. It’s been so hard getting this off my chest. It sucks and it’s so awkward. It’s like a big secret and I can’t really let anyone in on it. It’s like I can’t talk about it because it just goes to show that I’m weak. I don’t want to have to hide it anymore. It’s not my fault that I have this. I’ve just been so depressed. I am depressed.