It was good to sleep. The anxiety is gone for now, but the depression is here. Though I do feel anxiety every time I think about going back to work. It feels unbearable that life is so difficult for me… And others who are troubled, of course. I know I’m not the only one to feel this way. I still think about suicide often. And sometimes I just wish I could be hospitalized again. Lately more than usual. I would be looked after and I could hide from the world. I wouldn’t have to lead a life. I know there are happy moments but I hate those as well. Because I know I’ll be depressed again; and even though I enjoy them while they are there, I despise them in times like these. I hate myself for being happy. For letting myself feel joy. Every bad thing that happens I hate myself for. So much self-hatred. Even now I know this is a message to nobody; there is no receiver at the other end. So my words will echo empty and I’ll keep counting down the minutes of my loneliness.