You know what?

I'm tired. No, I'm exhausted. I'm living my life in the fantasy world in my head trying to plan and write a book because I can't face the truth.

Reality sucks balls. Why is it so hard to be happy? Why must I feel depressed all the time? Why do I feel like I have to be wary and suspicious whenever anything good happens, like it's going to be snatched away cruelly?

Depression is hard. Especially when people scoff and mock you for saying that's how you're feeling. Excuse me, but you aren't living in my body. You don't know how I'm feeling in my head or in my heart. All you get to see is the portion I decide to show the world.

So I'm living in my head, creating these new lands, and characters, and species, and worldly woes because there I won't be told to cheer up and stop being such a miserable git. Do you not realise if it were really as simple as turning that frown upside down I would have done something about it by now?!

It's getting exhausting though, keeping up this charade and maintaining all of these masks of happiness. I need to do something about this because I will not be beaten down again.