I am coming back to myself. My depression is starting to lift itself off. I told myself weeks ago to turn all the sadness and meaninglessness around. Easier said than done. But after having a serious talk with my mother and a friend who is suffering , I realized once again that pain is telling me to help others carry their burden. I was needed. And this is not to fill a desperate want to have someone depend on me but to acknowledge that through my condition I could understand those who are losing hope/grip in life. I learned some pretty dark things and I was afraid I could once again slip into despair but so far I didn't. Repeating to myself every day that there was something to look forward to helped in many ways. I couldn't write for the past few days but I was happy I had that going on. I mean, the world could **** me up so bad and maybe when I wake up tomorrow I would  be depressed, but writing is something no one can take away from me. Words have become my greatest comfort. Just reading some of my older, crappier works cheers me up a bit. There might be some break downs in the future but after close to five  months of experiencing this, I can get the hang of depression like it's an old friend. It's far too early though to call me normal because my mood swings are ambiguous as hell. But I am beginning to entertain hope and push away the negativity as much as I can. Small steps, small steps