my twenties

I never thought pain would be a revolving door with depression as an expected outcome. I also never thought that after years of effort to step out of the nauseating spinning trap that it would continue to haunt me into my twenties. I guess I thought being twenty-something would look like it did online. I would have had gone through my trials – had paid my dues, to rightfully earn my spot as an ‘it girl’ twenty-something. But the shift never came and around and around I continue to go. There was a small sift although, one I wouldn’t have welcomed warmly if I saw it coming – a shift in my attitude towards my depression. It feels like I have accepted it. I use to fight it so hard. My tools were self-care, exercise, and the bible. Now? Now I cant move, deliberated by the notion that this is it. I wont ever step off the revolving door of pain and depression – this is it for me. I promise I use to try. I really do. I would even cry about being depressed and hope for it to be taken away from me. Now, not so much. I don’t find myself locked away in my bedroom as much with tears streaming down my face; its more of a stare-at-the-wall-and-ignore-life kind of movement for me. Maybe this is me moving past self-pity and on to ‘what the fuck its not going away.’ For some reason, I feel like I will always be ailed by this. Its mine now in a sense, no shaking it now. I just wish I could step off for a moment, just for a little bit. To rest, to ready myself for the rest of the fight. I am getting tired, its wearing me down. Gnawing at my perseverance. I use to be younger, holding on for my magical twenties. I don’t really have anything else to hold onto know that I know it wont leave. I am going to hate my body, my life, and living forever. I have never wanted nothing more than to not exist.