Listen closely because I say a lot of unimportant shit but this is important:

YOU FIGHT FOREVER.

Forever.

You will get tired and you will get worn down and you will be defeated and you will just want to stop. And you can. But know that when you stop, you die.

Depression can go bad places. My family is really pretty good at suicide; I've got two on my mom's side. Depression, allowed to run its course, is death.

Which, when you're wrapped up in the Camille Claudel macabre beauty of it, seems like a release. The thing of it is you don't get to the happy ending if you punch out early. And the people who care about you will sorely miss you.

I ain't saying "hold your head up high." I ain't even saying "put on a happy face." Know down to your very bones that if it ain't one damn thing it's two damn things, that the bastards will win in the end, that entropy will win out no matter what, and that in the grand scheme of things you don't fucking matter.

But in the near term, you do. You're important to everyone that knows your name. Nearly everyone you've ever met would be saddened by your passing. We don't all get to be George Bailey so we gotta improvise; at a fundamental level most people are good and kind and if you've been good and kind to them they remember you fondly.

Keep 'em guessing. Let them wonder what you're up to. Don't be an epitaph, don't be a cautionary tale.

Eventually the dark spots will brighten, the bright spots will spread, and you'll discover that you've been pretty happy for long enough that you only vaguely remember just how black and horrible things were. And you'll laugh, and you'll smile, and you'll thank your lucky stars that you pulled through.

But it won't come if you're looking for it. Happiness is like love. It alights on those who are ready but not seeking.

Hang in there. It's worth it. I promise.