Day starts out really bleak, bottoms out, gets better. Every day. Not that every day gets better. It's just that this very same thing happens every day. It's much better on the days I don't have to see or speak to anyone.
During the last very-bad time in my life I became convinced - rightly or wrongly - that I was nothing but a drain on people, that anytime anyone spoke to me it was out of pity. Looking back on it, this was a pretty psychotic way of thinking, but that's the way I was back then. There were plenty of nights I prayed not to wake up the next day, and a few times I worked up the nerve to try to make that happen (I did not have the anti-suicide bias I have now), but obviously nothing ever came of it. This lasted for about a year, after which I moved up north for a few years and left all my troubles behind, so to speak. By the time I moved back, I'd quit caring what anyone thought about me, and thus commenced ten or twelve of the best years of my life.
So now here I am, thinking - rightly or wrongly - that I'm a real drain, and anytime anyone speaks to me it's because they feel sorry for me, and I have failed at so much, it just all seems impossible. Is this the whole remainder of my life, or just another terrible year? Back then, it was not a matter of making the conscious decision (Wait). Back then I was just chickenshit and unsuccessful in my attempts to escape.