What’s The Point

It’s like a literal weight on my body, several times heavier than me, slowly crushing the life out of me. No one else can see it, to them I look fine. Normal. But I’m not. I’m overwhelmed by life. I’m surviving, I’m existing, but I’m not sure for what purpose. I know the suffocating depressed phase will pass at some point, but I also know it will return again. What is the point of life like this? Why is it so important that I keep trying, keep breathing, when it’s so hard? I feel such hopelessness. Such a heaviness of despair and lethargy. Why must I endure this? All I do is burden others and take up space. What is the point of me?

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