Highs are followed by lows. I had a high today and now I am at a low. It's 3:00 a.m. and I am low because I remembered the past. I foolishly looked back down that alley and tried to make sense of things again. But it becomes jumbled. Rotten. Gradeschool. Highschool. RISD. I believe I have positive memories but I don't seem to remember them that well because there's a sort of smokescreen of negativity.

For the record, what is depression like right now?
It is a voice in my head that tells me hateful things simply. Sometimes it sounds like someone else, but I know it's really me:

Everything is lost.
Everything is gone.
Everyone hates you.
Everyone wants to hurt you.
You are not in control.
You will never recover.
You will never love.
You are disgusting.
Your creations mean nothing and are useless.
Those who you care about and love never loved you and cared about you in turn.
You are here to be used.
You are alone.
You are a failure.
You are nothing.

It constantly tells me to give up. To sleep eternally. Something reasonable, planned and sound. Not like before. There is a clear and distinct feeling that goes through my limbs and a congestion in my chest and throat that is mildly painful. The feeling in my arms is a puke green and like a numbing, cold jelly. Motor skills fall slack slightly.

I take a bupropion sr along with the hydroxyzine counterpart. My older brother in me tells me to be calm and in the present. To breathe. To discuss this and write it down. Paradoxical intentions are dangerous at the moment and shouldn't be attempted. I can't see the future and it worries me. I consider taking a reserved clonazepam. As needed. Especially for sleep. The lows do not happen as frequently or as severe as they did last year. It has been probably two weeks since my last anxiety/depression low.

The low is becoming balanced as I write this. I turn to my Alan Moore-signed volume of Swamp Thing and think about Abby Arcane as a protagonist. A will to live is important.

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