Things that are objectively good and cheerful are laced with something that makes me feel intolerably sad, because they are objectively good and cheerful.

The sight of my 6 year-old curled up asleep and cuddling his toy dog is heart breaking because it is such a happy sight, because happiness seems stupid and shortlived, which means I feel that he will feel worse in the future because he felt happy now.

All problems seem insurmountable.

Talking to people who seem to care about me is physically painful.

I don’t feel that I deserve to be happy. 

It feels natural not to eat.

I just want to sleep, not because I’m tired but because I don’t want to be awake.

Nothing is interesting or nourishing.

The fact that I don’t always feel this way makes me feel like a fraud when I do feel like this, because it seems like with a different coin toss I wouldn’t have these thoughts or feelings.

This feeling feels an appropriate reaction to the world. 

I’m angry for no reason. I want to blame people for no cause.

I don’t like being touched, even by my children.

I feel like there is a reason for why I feel this way, but I can’t solve the reason.

Noise hurts, I’m convinced my skin is more sensitive.

I stammer.

When I feel this way, the memory of ever having felt anything different seems foolish and inappropriate.

I’ve felt this way five days out of the last seven. 

I might not feel this way when I wake up tomorrow, but the prospect of feeling like this in the future is impossible.

I don’t think I would feel depressed if I didn’t also feel love and empathy.