You can't help me.

I know, you want to try. You'd like to tell me all these truths about who I am in Christ, how beautiful I really am, how wonderful my personality is. You would like to counteract every lie I believe about myself. You want to help me because you love me, I know. But the truth is, you can't. I can't let you.

I was driving home tonight after a slightly stressful Bible study for my fragile emotions and spirit. And as I drove I felt the familiar darkness creep in. The thoughts of why God continues to torture me with life and loneliness and all the other little demons that claw their ways into my depression. I was thinking about how I always find myself in this place, as I often do at these times, and I finally banked on something. This darkness is an escape mechanism. By focusing my thoughts and attentions on suicide and depression, I basically check out of living life with any kind of hope or dream or will. I simply survive another day and that in itself is the reward. How sad is this? Yet, it's where I am and it's where I'll be. Until I truly desire change (and why would I if it's such an excellent cop-out), I will find myself here night after night. So, I'm sorry I suck at being someone I want to be (mainly happy and hopeful) and am so good at being this checked-out, dark, cynical, bitter, angry version of who I am. Thanks for being my friend anyway.