Not enough

Depression sneaks in like a thief through the night. Just want to sleep…escape…curl up into a ball under the covers or under my desk. Doesn’t much matter which, just somewhere where I don’t have to think, see, hear or do anything. Close my eyes and shut it all out, let my own dreams take me into nightmares where, terror-struck, at least I will feel alive. It is not supposed to be this hard…hard is okay…hard is good, but this…this feels impossible, hopeless, helpless…drowning in a sea self-pity and self-loathing. If only I was good enough…strong enough… smart enough…something enough…

I am not enough …I have never been. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I ever do it right or not do it, right? Doing is wrong, not doing is wrong, being frozen with indecision and panic is wrong. Panic, not anxiety, anxiety is a measly thing. This thing that keeps trying to crawl up my throat is much too powerful for that. I choke on the panic, fighting to keep it in, keep it down…because if I let it out, I just don’t know what will happen. I WILL run screaming away, I will break things and throw things and SCREAM at the top of my lungs, scream until my throat is as raw and as sore as the places inside me.

It is all just too much, much too much and I am simply, yet again, not enough.