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With Christmas just around the corner, I find myself reminiscing on all the desperate nights spent begging for a better life.
You see, when I was younger and my depression first took ahold of my mind and soul, I had hope.
Hope for relief.
Hope for happiness.
Hope for a better future.
I spent every night under the Christmas tree with my hands clasped together and my head lowered as I kneeled before my only hope and PRAYED as hard as I could.
That was when I still believed there was a god...
And maybe there is, just not a very kind one. One that would laugh in the face of all his or her creations, watching the life fade from their pleading eyes that once held desperation.
At times, I feel very bitter about the holidays. I guess I’ve been let down.
I used to believe That Christmas would save me. I waited patiently for almost an entire year as I held onto the hope the the festive season would give me the happiness I once lost. It was the only solution to my problem and it HAD to work, it just had to.
Because if it didn’t, then what was the point in living an empty life with no joy?
I ask myself this question often and ponder death just as frequently. But even so, I never do it. Even if I wish to do so DESPERATELY, something keeps me here, something stops me...
I have no idea what it is but, I know that I will never look at Christmas with the same joy ever again...
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I understand how you feel so much. Even on my darkest days I just can't kill myself. I feel like the only reason why I'm lasting is because inside I know I have a purpose in life (even if it may not make a huge difference anywhere). I can tell you do too. You have a purpose in life. Don't give up. By the way, you write really well! :)
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