Alone.

It was always my dream, my hope - to move to the city where my workplace is, to be away from my parents, to manage my own life. And now- almost a year later, I feel like I have failed it all. Yes, I am close to my workplace. But at the same time, I barely have enough motivation to go there, I still depend on my parents, of whom I hate my father. And the biggest price is my own sanity. I have no friends. None. Nill. Nada. I am grateful for the weekly visits the Emmaus are providing to check if I am doing alright. The more they visit me however, the more they see how messed up I am. Without a doubt, I have depression, and may need medication. And yet I am too afraid of seeking help. Am I pathetic for this? Perhaps. And is writing a blog entry about how crap I feel a cry for attention? Nah. I am just venting, really. There is nothing else I can do about myself, so I can at least document my suffering. It is time to go to bed so that this suffering may  continue. I just wish to be free from this endless cycle.