Written Consolation

I'm sure that who's ever been keeping track of my recent entries (besides myself)  must've thought at one point "why is she publishing all of this if she's not directing it to a certain someone, why must she parade her sadness if she's not looking for sympathy?"

Well, this question has crossed my mind every time I checked my blog, every time I moderated a comment, and every time I published a new post. "Why are you doing this? If your purpose was truly to 'document' this sad period of your life, then why don't you keep a private journal? why does the world have to know that you're 'crushed beyond repair'?"

In all honesty? I don't know. I asked this question to myself so many times I've lost count, and I still fail to see the point of what I'm doing.
All I know is that writing comforts me. when I write, a faint light of hope ignites within me. and for a few hours, I live in momentarily peace. I think happy thoughts, something along the lines of  "you're fine, everything is gonna be alright. you know, a lot of people got bigger problems, yours is considered trivial in....Congo for example!"

But that peaceful feeling of strength soon wears off, and I'm back to square one.

If I could describe my shattered emotional state in one word at the moment, it would be Terrified.
I'm terrified of staying depressed, I'm frightened that I'll always be depressed, I'm scared that all the happiness that's been drained out of my life will never return, I'm worried I'll never move on, The thought of not being able to pull my life together is eating at my heart (or whatever is left of it).

This whole thing has literally drained my will to do anything. I'm still standing right where I was 35 days ago (I can't believe it's been that long, or that short)
sigh....