So, I think this will be more ramble than mumble, but fuck it.
I can tell that I have slipped into the realm between realms today.
Be that my own doing, or the doing of other people is difficult to tell.
I'm back to existing, not living.
I'm stuck on repeat.
It would be easy to blame the people left in my life, but I'm as much to blame.
The difference is, I can't help feeling this way.
I have really productive periods and then my scumbag brain says, "Oh, hey, 'productivity'? Can't have too much of this shit. Better throw you a 'depression' curveball to balance your day. Don't want you thinking you're actually getting better!"
So yes, I've retreated away from the idiot-grenades, the non-thinker-machine-guns and the induction-of-suicide-troops. I'm laid on the floor of the trench, in a puddle of stagnant rainwater and my own urine, covered in the mud of my depression, crying from the shell shock, praying for mercy but simultaneously hoping that the end will come quick if it has to come at all. Soon, the assault will stop and I will regain my footing, stand up, and take up arms to defend myself.
For now I'm content to lie here and wait for the end.