Almost a month since my attempted suicide. Almost a month until my 30th birthday. Today, I’m laying in bed, because I can’t motivate myself to do more. Depression has sunked her fucking claws into me again. She is an old friend though, we’ve danced this dance for a long time. It is to the point where I feel like I don’t know what happiness is. She’s a twat though, along with her, she brought some friends. Anxiety, she is sometimes the worst. She and I have a new game, let’s see how long can we make Thia be stuck in the apartment. However, PTSD is a sneaky bastard, he doesn’t always make himself heard like the other two. Instead, he whispers nasty little lies, and when he is especially cruel he shows me… well, all of it. So, I lay here stoned and alone with my thoughts.