self-titled

I don't like to admit that the subject of my writing, my thinking, is shaped by mental illness. But it's the most obvious self-identification I have, and certainly the most consistent. I spend a lot of my time working to pass, and it's usually unconsciously done. Passing means not drawing suspicion that I am quite morose, empty-feeling, sad and isolated. I am pretty brilliant at passing, actually. I'm just the only person who doesn't benefit from that.

There's something about my personality that is just as persistent as depression and it's the force to live. That may sound grandiose, but not to a depressive. Death is a constant subject on my mind, an attractive ending to a boring, self-obsessed story. I can rate my mood by the number of times a day I consider dying -- the during or after -- how I'd do it, would it work, would it last? Would it be more permanent than depression? Would it overrule me? I'm looking for something or someone that does. There is no logical reason why I have not killed myself. It is absolutely a better option than living miserably for decades to come. In fact, it's possible that I'm more angry I can't kill myself than I am angry at being depressed. One thing would appear in my control. But the catch is, it's not. I have a senseless will to stay alive and I resent that part of myself more than anything sometimes.