My Current State

I find my current state rather puzzling, not to mention depressing: I am no longer in such a place that death seems my only real option for escape from an empty future. That is to say I am no longer in such a place that I long to die, nor am I in the much worse place (in my opinion, and going off of how it feels to be in that place, not how it is practically) of longing for death and being unable to do anything much less take my own life (I know it sounds terrible and horrifying but it is what it is... or rather was what it was).

Anything would be preferable to being in such a state, right? Ah, if it were only that simple.

Now please do not misunderstand me. I am rather glad to be out of such a dark pit as that which I had previously inhabited. The problem is that my future is still empty. Not empty as much as nonexistent. There was a time in my life when I had a future; I could see what it was I wanted to do, I knew what I had to do to accomplish it, and what is more important, I had no doubt as to the fact that I was capable of reaching my goals.

Then it happened.

During fall and winter terms that year I continued to console myself with the fact that however bad my instructor was I loved the subject too much for him to ruin it for me. And to be perfectly honest I do not believe that he did. I do believe, however, that his behavior that year contributed in some way to the deep depression I found myself in by that spring term (though there was worse to come in the months to follow).

What followed I have written about a good handful of times in various ways on this blog. Out of all the major depressive episodes I have experienced in my life (truthfully this last one was my fifth, if you can believe it) it was by far the worst. Just thinking about it causes a sensation at the back of my throat, somewhat familiar, as if I would cry. It was during that year and a half, the year and a half of my life lost to me, that I lost my future. I cannot think how to describe it adequately. I can tell you that I truly believe that something in me died during that time. I felt it die then, I feel its absence even now. It was not the death of my future; it was the death of this part of myself which contributed to (caused?) the loss of my future. In my mind it was like a colorful street crowded with lively people going about their daily lives suddenly became empty, monotone, and so thick with fog the street and it's buildings are barely visible, even up close (my attempt to describe what I feel... I am trying to draw it, if I can manage it to my satisfaction I will post it here).

If you will allow me a small moment of childish petulance: It is not fair. I had hoped that, having clawed my way up from the depths, that the fog would dissipate or at least lessen somewhat. But it stays, as impenetrable as ever. What point is there in continuing when there is nothing to continue for? I find, having emerged from that pit, that still there is nothing. Only my location has changed. And I feel cheated, and hopeless.