I wonder if there will ever be a time in my life that I permanently want to live. Instead I feel like I am always fighting the depression of wanting to die. I know these feelings will always pass, normally after a few hours, sometimes after a week. I suppose there have been the times that I have had depression for months on end. These have been nearly crippling. I do not understand why the idea of cutting during these is appealing. I do not cut anymore but there is something comforting with the idea still. I wish I could have had a normal life. I know normal is such a relative term. I would say I am happy for the most part with my life, even when in the low points. There is still a loneliness. There is still occasional sadness that I will never be able to have a normal relationship or family of my own. I know one can say to never give up hope, but I know myself. I know how much I go back and forth between absolutely everything. I know how quickly the thought of living happily with someone can seem like what I want but then the next second be completely happy being alone. There is also a tad bit envy towards the person I could have been. If I could have grown up in a nice house with a happy family who provided everything I needed and none of the abuse ever happened, I could have grown up happy. Shit, how about maybe even just being molested once? or twice? Or at least by only one person maybe. I could have still been somewhat okay, I think. I don’t know, maybe even just a year’s worth of abuse rather than three to four. At what point did my brain chemicals start becoming unbalanced? I am not trying to sound like I feel sorry for myself, it’s just really fucking frustrating when I can’t shut off my mind enough to concentrate. I suppose though…this is me.