Situational depression.
That is where I stand right now.
Perhaps it would be a good idea to ask to have my antidepressant increased. I am beyond frustrated, beyond pissed off,
beyond tired. I spend so much time in
bed and so little time doing anything else I think it’s getting to me. I feel I have no one to trust, no one to
confide in. And yet, even though having
those things would help my health, they find no reason to make it priority. Perhaps I have too high of standards for
people. Even with that in mind, I refuse
to lower them. I need what I need,
period, and I (and everyone here) deserve better than this. We deserve to have people giving us
medication that know something about
them. We deserve people who give a fuck
about the residents here, not people preoccupied with covering up problems and
worrying so much about losing their job they don’t even fucking do the exact
job that they’re paid to do. You’d think
that with all this going through my head I’d be more angry than sad. But, unfortunately, the sadness is winning
out. I’m sad because no one hears what I
say, or cares what I say, no one takes the things I say seriously. I am very quickly losing hope.
That is the basis for deep depression: Hopelessness.
Another pretty good indicator that I will be heading down that path is a
feeling of powerlessness. Those two
words sum up my feelings day by day here.
I am a single pawn being used in multiple games of illusion and hierarchy. If there’s anything I hate more than being
powerless, it’s being toyed with.
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