I don’t know how to get over the depression. I’ve slipped so far into it that I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m drowning and can’t find the surface. People keep telling me that I’m so strong and brave. But I’m not. I’m not strong at all. I’m dead inside. There’s nothing left to be weak. I feel so hopeless. What’s the point of anything? Why should I live another 60-ish years? I don’t want to float through the days for another sixty years until the inevitable breast cancer, or a car accident, or a heart attack, or whatever takes me. I don’t want to live without Maya. And the fact that I have to just kills me. I don’t want to have to be strong anymore. I’m so tired. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of hurting all the time. I’m tired of having to hold myself together for everyone else. I’m tired of being without my baby. I’m afraid that things will never get better. I will always live in some crappy apartment in some crappy town. I’ll never have anything. And even if I do, I won’t have Maya. I don’t want to live in a world without Maya. I’ve struggled with cutting and suicidal tendencies since the sixth grade. But never this bad. Every thought is a bad one. Everything is a new opportunity to harm myself. I feel so angry and hurt on the inside that I lash out at my family and myself. Even my cat. I hate myself so much that I can’t even look in the mirror. I don’t shower much because I have to be naked and I hate it. I hate looking at myself. I’m consumed with self-hatred and longing for Maya. I don’t think I will ever be okay again. I don’t want to be okay again. I don’t deserve to be. I don’t deserve to be a mother again. I should have been a better one to Maya. Maybe that’s why she was taken from me. I don’t know how to feel better. I don’t know how to stop blaming myself for losing her. My life is empty without her. My soul is empty. I don’t think I have enough left for Austin even. I just don’t know what to do.