You said: You should go outside. Get a hobby.

I know then that you're the type blessed with nonexistent knowledge of what depression is.
How do you go outside when each breath is a struggle. Like you need to start counting your inhale and exhale - one two, in out. Because sometimes you sink so much that you forget. To breathe.
Or you don't really want to. Breathe.
When you go for days, not eating, wishing that painlessly one day you wake up and no longer are alive.
When you are so afraid to live, but you don't want to die. Yet.
I take my heart and I squeeze it tight, hoping that the tears would come.
But my tears are as numb. Lying below the surface. Until maybe my eyes would explode. And then I would be able to cry. And die. Or not die.

Every turn of the key I would think it's you in repentance.
But that storyline only exists for people who don't know.
How wretched a beautiful life can be.

In pain I lay me down to wake.
In blood I stretch out my hands.

I know You are there.
Only in You.
So show me the way.

Please.

Show me the way.