Dear Depressed Person Who Can’t Find Meaning in Life Right Now
I struggle to live every single day, too.
I can’t seem to fall asleep tonight. I’m wrestling with all the life choices I’ve made in the last decade, wondering where I went wrong, how I fucked myself over, and ended up here: Living in my childhood bedroom. For the last eight months, I’ve told my therapist I planned to redo my room. I told my therapist I planned to apply for these jobs and work out more and eat better. Now here I am, sitting on the same bed I slept on at six years old, and I’ve done none of that. Sure, I’ve applied to jobs I never heard back from. I worked out a handful of times and would swim every day when the weather was still nice. I even rearranged my childhood bedroom furniture, so the sunshine would hit my face instead of the back of my head. Still, I struggle to live every single day.
There are days I don’t even know how they went by and days when I don’t even know how or why I’m still here. I’m twenty-three years old, and it feels like I’m scrambling to find a semblance of meaning in this world. Just eight months ago, my life felt like it was just beginning. I was in my final semester of college, and everything looked bright. I wasn’t too worried about finding a job because I thought I’d eventually find one no problem. I’d pursued and achieved everything a recent…
