I was speaking to a friend earlier tonight. We were having a discussion about depression in the midst of our deep silence, and one thing he said to me brought a sudden epiphany to my dismal thoughts. . ."People with goals usually aren't suicidal". . .I wondered at that for long moments, as it had never before really crossed my mind. An interesting realization occurred to me after those disconserting moments had passed. Perhaps I was just creating a reason to keep on living, or perhaps just a delusion. . .A false facade of dreams. . .Well, all in all, I suppose the new thoughts that followed weren't at all very comforting. . .

How long do I actually intend to put up with everything, and stay alive on this Earth? At what time will my shields all succumb to the might of my heavy depression and break apart like glass, leaving nothing to support my shattered soul. . .It seems as though I can feel the end just creeping one step closer every breath that passes. . .Almost as though I were to relieve the deceased body of the elderly woman I prepared for her grave a few nights ago. . .How much more can I take, why. . .