It’s really difficult to believe that life is going to improve. I’ve started to think it’s going to be periods of depression interspaced with the rare and wonderful moments of happiness, the few days where hope isn’t necessary because you are living the life you wanted. You don’t have to worry about the future, because the now is ever-present in your mind and joy is etched into your soul. But those times never last long enough, and you are alone and miserable once more. I wonder whether this pattern holds only for my depression brethren, and I, or whether it’s a universal truth to life. It’s difficult to know what is normal, when the only thoughts I have access to are my own. Some days I am drowning in those thoughts, in an ocean of hopelessness and despair. I know how to swim, but I can’t swim forever, and the islands are few and far between. They end up disintegrating beneath me, and I’m left in the lonely ocean once more. Why does it have to be so lonely, why can I only find others on the islands?