mired

I keep thinking that if I can just make it through this year, I'll be all the more stronger. But what if things don't get better; what if they just keep compounding and getting worse? I try to seclude myself into more controllable scenarios, but I can't stop (nor give up) life around me. My mentality feels tougher, now more so than ever, to handle what comes my way but still I'm not handling the situations themselves any differently, let alone better. Instead of mustering the desired confrontation, I reflexively distanced myself, becoming increasingly numb with every blow. Although I have been resilient enough lately to avoid complete upheaval of my progressing mentality, the inflicted foreboding sufficiently nurtures my doubts. Perhaps I'm excepting too much too quickly but my current preoccupation is how unshakably my depression persists despite my best efforts; inescapably, it constantly looms over me as an omnipresent threat, mocking my every attempt and seething in my every failure. At my best, I suppress or ignore its presence but never does it wholly go away.

Not that that is excuse enough to discontinue, merely a disenchanting observation.