Suffering

I feel wounded. Like there's a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be. I'm barely even surviving, which is like the bare minimum. My body is alive but I'm not. Hello, it's me, the brain controlling this meat mech. I'm not doing well and I'm the most important piece to this puzzle so... Can we even call this survival?

Hell, I only drag myself to make food because I don't want to hurt myself. Yep, my depression means that I cant even get up to make food. And that's self harm. Depriving yourself of basic necessities.

I wish I could magically work despite being a minor so I could get money to leave this hellish place. I'm going to try gray rocking but I dont want to lose myself in the process. I've been apathetic like this before, years ago my depression made me feel disconnected with reality and stayed that way for awhile. I was becoming a husk. It took so much to fix myself, I don't want to become a husk again.

I wish I could live here.

"I" "live" here, but *I* don't *LIVE* here. The person here is a different me I made just to limit violence. And I'm not living in this environment, I'M DYING.

4 more years. 4 more years. I'll be 18 and I can run where they can't follow.

I was thinking of getting a manual labor job, or a job at a store. Something, anything. Then getting enough money to rent one of those shitty ghetto budget apartments near my house. They're known for drug addicts, but fuck so is my house so? Atleast criminals have the guts to kill you instead of just threatening it.

I'd be so happy. Even in that scam of an apartment. I'd be so happy. Just because I'm not here. And I never would want to go back here again.

That's the only thing that keeps me alive. Looking to the future. If I focus on the present too long, I can feel myself rot at the seams. My brain becomes mush. I need to be free. I dont know how much more of this I can take. I need to be free.

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