Hope Contagium

A therapy journal of self-obsession, depression and meaning.

Tag: life


When I wake up the air is thick and I feel a pressure against my whole body. Moving is arduous as if I’m at the bottom of the ocean. Slowly, I push myself to each singular act: open your eyes; sit up; concentrate on not lying back down.

Eventually I step out the door.

Outside, for every step I take, I have to keep on concentrating on not lying down. I have to keep on concentrating to not give over. As I sit on a bench, sheltered from the wind, I feel a sort of magnetic pull towards the dirty cement beneath my feet. I want to crawl off the bench and lie here on the spot. I want to curl myself together, close my eyes and wait to disappear. Because I’m convinced that I will disappear, even though I know this isn’t true. For it is nothing more than wishful thinking.


I know, that I’ve become smarter from the pain I’ve experienced. I also know that I should be proud of my obtained knowledge, and, yes, I am glad that my consciousness makes me learn and makes me evolve every day. Nevertheless, I think melancholic about how liberating a life without all these mental challenges would be. I too want to be ignorant…

Fucking life.

Five years it took my sister and she still has strong downfalls. So what have I got to look forward to? Being healthy, but in constant battle? Being functional.

Maybe I can hold on to my dream of ending up like Babushka and Dedushka; and then one can hope that it is worth it.

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