What is life?

I suppose I should be happy with the life I have, I mean, people have it worse off than me right? But what may only inconvenience one person, could kill another. Just because you think you know me, or that I write all my emo status updates on facebook etc, does not mean you know the full extent of what is actually wrong with me. I under play everything, make it seem not as bad as it really is, but in reality, things are a lot worse than even my closest of friends realise.

I'm on so many meds, at such a high dose, that the side effects are worse than what they are meant to be helping me with. My depression spirals from the breaking point of suicidal to a numb existential void of emotions. My anxiety has pushed all but a handful of friends away from me, and even those few that still try to be my friends aren't really there for me. Besides a trip to the shop across the road, or the random doctors or hospital appointment, I almost never leave my house, relying on facebook to try to keep a grasp on humanity and what is happening in the world and with friends. I keep seeing posts, of friends going out, enjoying themselves, having fun, and I wish so badly for an invite, but even if I could ignore my anxiety and go out with them, the neuropathy in my legs limits how far I can walk, and the chronic pain stops me from doing anything but the laziest of things. Not that any of those friends do invite me, because I've said no so many times in the past, they've just stopped asking now. As for the neuropathy in my legs, it's now spread to my hands, with a numbing sensation and even typing this post is a strain, and at half the speed and with twice as many typo's as I was only a year or two ago. 

The medical and mental problems just keep getting worse as the years go on. This August will be seven years since the chronic pain started and everything spiralled down hill. In three months I will be 32 years old, and I don't see myself getting any better. In five years I see myself wheelchair bound, and I don't see myself living another ten to fifteen years, and that's a reasonable estimate, not letting my depression or suicidal thoughts sway the estimates. The point is, if it is only going to get worse, is it worth continuing?

I know I have things to look forward to. I'm actually enjoying being back at university, even if I have problems with the way the assignments are written. But that's just first year stuff, making sure everyone is on par with everyone else, testing essay writing, note taking, and math skills etc. It will all change once we reach second year material. I'm also finally seeing a neurologist. My first appointment is 2nd June, after waiting almost a year to be referred to them, they may offer something to help with at least the neuropathic pain, not that I hold much hope in it.

As for less depressing news, there's someone I like, and she knows, not that the feeling is mutual, but she knows, which is a big step for me. The whole bottling up feelings, and waiting for the girl to make the first move doesn't work, and I know that, and I finally did something about it. Even if I didn't like the answer, at least I tried.

What else is there to say? life sucks, and it will continue to suck, and nothing I can do will change that... Bleh :/