Doom

I always have this strange sense of doom and longing, whatever it is for I do not know. I ate already, but I’m still hungry, hungry for whatever I do not know. Maybe it’s just my depression, but I feel as though I should be used to it since I’ve been depressed for so long, but it still weighs so heavily on me, so heavy that sometimes I just can’t take it. But I do, I take it and I take it and I take it and I try and I try and I try yet it’s never enough. But for some reason, I’m still happy, still happy that I have a family and whatnot and my own room and a job even if it doesn’t get me very far, and I’m glad that I’m glad, but I need help. Real help. I’ll just leave it for now, I can’t bother.