I walk around and appear happy, normal (albeit a bit odd!) to those around me. No one seems to recognize how miserable I am. I make conversations quick because I want to avoid social interactions, but whenever I'm alone I just want to be with people. I just can't believe that anyone can enjoy my presence. It's funny--I was talking with a friend last week and he mentioned that he thought so-and-so was depressed because of how he was acting. And yet, here I am, sitting right across from him, and he has no idea of my state of mind. He can talk to me, a person mildly obsessed with thoughts of suicide, and have no idea what I'm going through. I get so frustrated by little things, I don't even know what makes me happy anymore. I can't think of anything, at all. My weight has skyrocketed, as has the time I spend alone, and I sleep nearly as much as I'm awake. I long for three years ago, the last time I can remember being truly happy. I don't think I want to die, I just want to feel fucking better.