I feel myself going on this very numbing downward spiral, yet it's not terrifying like my other depressions. This one feels, in the most disturbing of senses, almost comfortable. Familiar. And oddly, safe.

Yet I know it's not. I keep isolating myself to the point of finding it a-okay to not see the few friends I have anymore because I'd rather be alone. I'd rather sleep. I'd rather not eat. I don't panic, I do not become anxious. I am thinking I am just not coping with everything that is happening around me and with me.

I found out I will be on chemo for 4 more months. My grandfather just started his own chemo as he was diagnosed with bladder cancer. My sister is being relentlessly bullied. My moms not getting better... I think I just passed a certain point where not coping has become my coping mechanism.

And I can't tell if I hate it or like it.