I feel this happens every winter. During the summer I feel fine and I have friends and everything is peachy keen, but as soon as the weather drops so does my spirit. I have so much less energy, eat a lot more and feel down, which is a horrible combination. I eat a ton, feel fat and horrible but I'm too tired to work out, skip meals then fill up on crap. I sit in school and wonder what the point is. I never do my work because I don't have any motivation. I usually stare into space for hours on end. Nothing feels good or worth it. Even acting, which is my favorite thing ever, is super stressful and just not fun now. I broke up with my boyfriend almost a year ago, but I still love him. I felt he was my soul mate and I cannot get past him. I see him almost everyday (not my choice) and it makes me want to bleed. He wants to be friends, and he's already not too happy with life and I can't stand to see him hurt. He doesn't want me back, I know it but I still can't seem to look past him. No one else is worth it. I haven't been happy, truly happy without feelings of shame afterward since 6th grade, 4 years ago. They say they're upping my medication, but I don't believe it'll help. I kind of don't want it to help. I don't want anything. Except my ex, of course. Besides him I'm perfectly passive about anything and everything in life, and I don't know what to do about it. My memory sucks, though, and that's embarrassing, whats even worse is my mother seems to thing its because I was "taken advantage of" when I was young. I have no memories of 2nd grade, and I'm worried that might have happened. I sit in class, in life, and I just want to scream. But I can't, I literally can't. Even if I'm home alone and no one could hear me, I can't allow myself to. Even when my director told us to scream like we were upset and angry and depressed, I couldn't allow myself to. I don't know why. I'm afraid to. I'm afraid of a lot of things, but not death. I cut, and I like the blood. The pain isn't even that wonderful, though that's why most people cut. I just love the sight of my own blood coming down my arm. I said before I was passive, but that's not always true, sometimes I get really angry. At everything, especially my sister. She's really annoying and mean. She yell at me like she's an adult and treats me like a child, though we're less than a year apart. When she makes sarcastic comments, or my mom yells at people on the road, or my dad leaves in an angry rage, when my family pretends to love God or when they act like we're normal, I want to punch someone. They pretend we're okay, but we're not. My mom's racist, my dad's diabetic and has anger issues, and my sister and I used to dream of leaving. She dreamed of running away from home when she was little, now she's over it. I used to dream of my mom divorcing my dad and kicking him out, then I realized I hate my mom too. Then I dreamed of dying, enough to try it, but they found out. They pretended to care, but they didn't. The only reason I got "help" (it didn't work obviously) was because others started to find out about my horrible ways. Now I dream of running away. I won't even finish high school, I'll leave the day I turn 18, run away to some place that's always warm, so this fucking seasonal depression will die in the heat. I tell people I'll just be a waitress, but I'm thinking of being a stripper. I'm not getting married, I don't believe love lasts, and there's no fucking way I'm having kids and pass down my depression and anger and hate to my poor innocent babies. I don't plan on having a good life, but its better than dying, so they tell me. Is it? Sometimes I think when I get my driver's license I'll drive to New York and jump off one of the really high buildings. But probably none of this will happen. I'll probably go through high school, go to a college nearby, study education, get a degree for teaching music, become an elementary music teacher, get married, have kids, hate my life. I'll live unsatisfied, hate my husband and kids, then have to deal with there teenage ways, at least one will try to kill themselves, and we'll either have to deal with the grieving people in our lives or have to stick them in a mental hospital. The kids will slowly move put, we'll retire, one of us will die and the other will spend the short amount of there lives left alone and miserable. I'll get my heart broken many times, break many hearts, have sex, regret it, hurt others, get hurt, deal with tons of stress and stupid people. But that's better than dying, right? Better than not having these pains and few "worthwhile" okay memories, right?