Millions struggle with depression, some with more advanced mental illness. I dont have it as bad as many, but im worse than the majority. Only my responsibilities to the leaches who attatched themselves to me keeps me moving forward. Even writing this seems pointless. Thoughts and feelings put to words, words put to virtual paper but no one will read it. Nothing will change from this save for a temporary catharsis. Letting go just enough to continue to trudge on so others can be happy. Why not though, my sacrifice empowers them to comfort. Meanwhile a hellish war is fought daily in my head. These thoughts arent even coherant any more. So... whats the point in any of this? There is none.