Last night was one of the worst nights I can remember. I mean, most nights are pretty bad, regarding my depression. Mental illness is kind of an asshole like that.
But this was beyond what I'm used to. Last night was excruciating. I don't think I've ever hated being alive that much. I don't know if I've ever hated everything and everyone in the world with as much absolution as yesterday. I've always struggled under a sense of purposelessness, but this was worse than the last four years of self-loathing combined.
Today was nowhere near as awful. Yesterday was a fucking emergency, and I'm not going so far as to say I'm "better". I don't want to worry anyone, but I also don't want to give anyone the wrong impression. I'm not okay, I'm not out of the woods. But I've got a better sense of where I am now than yesterday.
Being in a constant state of tremendous emotional pain is normal for me. I don't know if there's any way to get better, but I'm not giving up yet. I'm still here. I'll survive.