I Don't Hate Life

There is a secret that lurks in my soul.  Sometimes, I think it's too horrible for anyone to understand.  I don't hate life, but I don't love it anymore.  I don't know if I ever really did.  I've lost so much, that I really don't love my life and I don't think there is anything that can ever change it because I have recurrent depression due to Hashimoto's Thryoiditis.  Maybe my life will just be completely about managing my illnesses.  The down side is that I actually need people to do that. 

I wonder if the people that left, if that was easy.  I wonder if they miss me like I miss them.  Sometimes it takes years to repair the damage.  If anyone read Doomsday, then I may not ever truly recover from it.  There will always be a scar, but one that no one can see.  Does anyone see behind the mask?

I feel like giving up most of the time, but there is a tiny little thing inside me that says not to.  I just really want him back.  I hate what happened to me, but I truly believe that if my job was so steeped in ignorance about mental illnesses, they would have not made as big a deal about it as they did.  I honestly don't know how I'm still alive.

I feel hopeless about finding friends or getting them back.  I just feel like I keep disappointing people because I'm not better to the point to the person that I was.  I just wish my face changed to go with what I am now.  The problem is that I'm not quite sure who I am.  I'm just not quite sure where I'm going from now on.


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