Depression

I'm so FUCKING tired of dealing with this constant force pushing me down.  I can rally, I can think positively, I can take advantage of proffered assistance, of medications, of friends and family and deeply held philosophical beliefs; but
IT
IS
CONSTANT.

It never stops pushing, it never stops grinding; it never, ever stops.  I'm stumbling through my life with a inky black planet upon my back, like Atlas carrying Hell upon his shoulders.  It sullies everything I say and do, every happiness and joy I have, every friendship and every love I find.  It drips molten tar on my naked skin, making my wounds so filthy and sticky that even the people who love me the most can't stand to touch me.  I don't blame them at all.

I'm so tired.  I'm so tired of the bruises and the burns, of all of the hurts that never heal.  I'm tired of the constant struggle against a foe that has never once flagged in almost two decades of battle.  I just want to rest, but resting from this battle is a permanent condition, and I'm not ready for that; though it has its appeal.

There isn't even a goal towards which I can work.  The fuzzy idea of a life without this fight is and idea too abstract for me to grasp, much less work towards.  At least Sisyphus could see his objective, and knew what would end his torment.

So I wait.  I pretend I have hope.  I pretend I'm making progress towards some undefined "wellness".  I do whatever I can to keep breathing.

Maybe something will happen.