I'm on the edge of the delicate balancing act that is depression. I could crash at any second, fall face first into the endless pit of lying awake at night because the pain is too much to ignore or repress, crying at random moments throughout the day and feeling every breath because I am almost too exhausted to keep up with each of them. I know what triggered it, that isn't the problem. Fighting, not succumbing to its pull is what I'm concerned about now. I know that if I slip, it will be the worst crash yet. So here I am, trying to stay occupied and not think about anything that could ignite it. The aching is creeping back into the hollow of my chest. It's knocking at my door, waiting for the moment when I'm weak enough to let it in. The pain that chokes me dry of tears is hoping something happens to send me over the edge. It doesn't have to be anything big either, especially not now. I'm trying, trying to force it from me. I'm working as hard as I can to keep the thoughts from my head but it's so difficult. It's draining and I worry that it will wear me down at any moment. I hate this endless cycle of hurt and emptiness. I hate that I have to feel this way. I would have been fine if I would have just listened to my gut in the first place. But now here I am, back in the usual spot. As if I thought I could be happy for a change.