I hadn't felt this kind of utter, sheer hopelessness in a long time. My heat had been shut off thanks to my selfish uncle who just wants me out of the house I grew up in, and for three days and nights I was wondering if I was going to die from the freezing, but I woe up and wondered why every time. Somehow, despite everything that happens around me, despite my wishes and expectations, I survive it all. I hate coming from a place of not having enough to do the things I want to do. I feel like I am just going to give and give until there is nothing left of me.

That's about it, I guess. I feel like I had a hell of a lot more to say before my, "Oh, that wasn't so bad," moment. Maybe it's better this way, coming from a place of survival and looking back at the hopelessness. I just feel like there was something deep and meaningful that came out of my dark place that i lost along the way, I came out of it, and now I'm back, but without the introspective thought process that led me out of there. Sorry about that. I got so caught up with school and work and living that I wasn't able to blog until things had gotten better, and who wants to read about someone who is doing well, or even OK?

I can say that when I was at the most desperate momentsand just wanted to give up, what kept me going was my unmitigated disgust at my money-grubbing family, and my desire to keep trying to be rich and successful, if only so I could rub it in their faces that they once tried to keep me down, that I was a liability to them, and then buy and sell their asses. Maybe that's enough?

Maybe it is true that something positive comes out of depression, otherwise why would I keep coming back to this? Next time I should try to articulate it a bit better while I'm still in the moment. Helpless, hopeless, panic-inducing, terrifying as dread is, it is nearly impossible to recall the feeling once it's passed

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