Hollowed out and crushed. 

I think that’s a good way to put it. Doesn’t mean that all is lost, just that there’s not much else to give without being filled back up. 

The important thing, to be clear, is that I still exist. And that’s a powerful thing to take away. 

 One of the worst feelings: wanting something so bad for so long only to have it break before it’s finished. 

Optimism is just shooting yourself in the foot, but closing your eyes first. 

 I have waves. 

I am a pendulum. 

Good days. 

Bad days. All with an ebb and flow. 

But, lately, I feel like an oil slick has crept over my surface I no longer feel the warm reflection of the sun. 

I guess this is decent metaphor for depression.