It is just me and depression, that's it. I don't deserve happiness, wellness, contentment, a remission, call it what you will, it is not going to happen. I need to get over myself and start accepting the truth, I'm depressed for a reason and that reason is that I am a waste of a life, a waste of a mind, a waste of a body, a waste of air. I shouldn't be alive, yet because the only skill I have is in staying safe I am alive and there is no alternative. Anyway, I may already be dead and in hell, so death can't end my depression and if I'm not already in hell, then suicide would send me straight there, so either way I lose.

My life is a mess, empty and lonely, sometimes I spend hours trying to create a fantasy to escape the horror. The fantasies are largely harmless, a bit like feel good TV drama, fluffy, lightweight, full of people and places that are nice to look at. There are obstacles and challenges to overcome but none are insurmountable. Sometimes, the fantasies become so real that I talk out loud, socially embarassing perhaps but not dangerous. Sometimes I involve other people in my fantasies, in that I lie to them, portraying events from my fantasies as something that happened in real life. These lies are not for personal gain, usually I just want to please someone else by recounting a pleasant or happy story. None the less I am deceiving someone, even if the lie can't hurt them and was never intended to.

I've tried most anti-depressants that are licenced in the UK. They have been effective in the past, but no longer as they seem to cause an unfortunate and embarassing problem for me. I am pathetic because I won't put up meds causing this problem, it makes me more isolated and unhappy than I am already. This in itself is evidence that I am meant to be depressed. As I am able to keep myself safe I am refused NHS psychiatric services, more evidence that confirms that I am destined to endure this depression permanently, with no prospect of any improvement.

Each day is more hopeless than the last, the pain is crushing me, I am weak and spineless because even though I know the depression is relentless, I am begging for it to end, shouting for mercy, as though I were spilling my secrets in the torture chamber hoping for the cruelty to end yet knowing that it never will.

I have tried to post these feelings many times, sometimes I write the post but don't hit the submit button. Other times my voice becomes lost amongst the pain and anguish of others who deserve more than me. I want this depression to end, why must I live wanting what I can't have?