Welp. It’s that time again. Time to think about everything I’ve done and everyone I’ve met, my mind racing around in circles, then slowing to a snail’s pace. Thinking about everything I’ve done and still doing up until this point on. Then, I realized that something is wrong with me. I should be happy with the things I have and the folks in my life…but I’m not. I can’t seem to get happy, no matter what I do. I can see that my memory is patchy, to the point where, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think I had memory loss…but this could be due to my depression and the fact that I repress my emotions and memories a lot. I should be happy that I finally have something but I’m not. It’s like everything is inadequate. It’s like everyone is inadequate. It’s like the very feeling of such is inadequate. It’s like I’m inadequate. I feel like crying my eyes out but over what? Why cry over something that is over and done with? Why waste my energy crying over something small and meaningless? Yet, it feels like the end of the world. I want them back but I know they will never be the same. I want the old them. The happy them. The one I fell in love with. The one I loved. They now are something else. Something I’ve created. It scared me. It scares me to the point where everything reminds me of how good I had it. I had to throw everything away. I just had to. They were destroying who I was…though, I feel that has happened anyways, so what was the point in leaving if the outcome was the same? They were right. I’ll never find another like them and that is tearing me up inside. I know it’s easier for everyone else to move on. However, for some dumb reason, my mind will not allow me to move on, as much as I desire nothing more than to do just that.