/lit/ - Literature

I feel trapped in a prison of my own design. I know that I've put myself in this situation, but I cannot for the life of me get out of it. I am fucking up my life and my three therapists have basically lost hope in me, because they keep saying I have to do this and do that, but I can't get myself to do pretty much anything. I feel like time is running out for me, yet I cannot get out of this depressed state that I've been in for many years now. Tomorrow my psychiatrist will call me about this medication called moclobemide that he wants to put me on. I pray to God that it will make me feel better and give me some energy to socialize and get a job. I have written a letter to my estranged family, but I do not have the heart to send it. I don't even know what I'd do if they contacted me in response. I feel so alone, yet I don't want to be around anyone, because I don't have the energy to pretend like I function anymore. Sometimes I feel like I'm just irreparably broken, messed up in the brain partly as a result of my childhood and the many years of depression, addiction and social isolation that followed. Maybe it has altered my brain chemistry or something. Sometimes I feel like I'm just one of those people of whom they'll say "It's a shame, he had so much potential."