Excuse me while I try desperately to figure out what it is I feel.

I used to love to write. Like not the kind of love where you've been told you're good at something so you just keep doing it love. Like it was the one thing I knew I could count on.

But my brain is such a disaster and I can't write anymore. I won't say I was the best writer ever but I was good. What I lacked in skill I made up for in passion.

I don't know when the darkness got this bad. This ever present cloud hangin over my head. I couldn't tell you when I let the depression swallow me. But it has.

I guess I'm trying to say I don't know how to express how I feel anymore. And it's all just sitting there bottled up inside of me, driving me more insane than I was before.