One ray of light...

From a Cracked.com article:

The point is that a person is driven to suicide by a whole bunch of different things, which build a wall around them, piece by piece, until the last piece falls into place and the wall is sealed so that there's no way out. Sometimes we look at all the problems that build up someone's wall of hopelessness and think there's no way any of the insignificant things we could do would be able to take it all down. But to break the illusion of there being no way out, you don't need to take down the whole wall, you just need to make one crack in it. One puppy lick, one phone call from Laila Ali, one corny song, one Internet stranger, one old Australian guy asking if you want to come in for a cup of tea.

I'm not depressed. Well, that's not true. I'm not depressed to the point of contemplating ending things. Which, honestly, wasn't too far back of a time for me. Just a few months ago I was right there on that edge.

I worry, a lot, about my mental issues and health. I'm not a happy person. I try to be a happy person - I struggle daily to make a smile come to my face, and to look on the bright side. But the honest to goodness truth is, I'm faking it. Almost every moment of it. Every time I'm smiling, there's a voice screaming in the back of my head that I have nothing to smile about, nothing to be happy about. Every setback that seems a small bump to others is monumental to me - struggling to find a job, trying to deal with unexpected statements from others, all of it overwhelms me.

It sends me into this place where I'm locked in the dark in my own head, unable to hear anything but the unkind thoughts I have about myself. They're shouted down at me from everywhere. And when it gets yelled loud enough, well, it's easy to believe that every word is true.

The thing is, I'm doing okay, comparatively speaking. I'm not suicidal right now. I'm managing to get through and keep pretending all is well. There are people who can't even do that. So what right do I have to complain?

I don't know why I'm writing this... just to get it out, I suppose. Because I know, later tonight, I'll be curled up, wishing I were asleep, crying silent tears because all I can think is what a horrible person I am. But the worst part? If someone asks, I'll lie and say I'm fine, because I'm so used to hurting and going without help that I don't know how to let it go.