struggling

I never anticipated being the type of person to drown things out with music.  Listen to music, yes.  Enjoy music, of course.  Breathe music, absolutely.  But now I plug in my phone and blast the same songs over and over again because I can't afford the silence.  I can't afford to think, because then I stand and stare at the wall, or I sit and realize I can't get back up, or I don't leave the shower even when there's not a trace of slippery conditioner left in my hair.  Paralysis is becoming too familiar a word.
I want to be brave.  I want to plant my feet in the ground and face the trouble head-on.  I want to sing and dance, knowing I'll be alright, as opposed to singing and dancing to keep things off my mind.  I want to run and jump and fly and pull out some sword I've always had with me, unafraid of cutting down my fears.
But I stay.  I move and move and move, pushing and tugging at the trouble to no avail.  I'm haunted by ghosts of the future and regrets from the past.  And when I stop to think about all of this, I lose my mind.
Enter music.  Which does not help.  It simply delays my impending doom, and I think to myself that if I don't focus on my impending doom now, then I'll be alright for the moment, and so I watch from a distance as my future-self burns alive and crashes to the ground, because I do not want to crumble.
I notice myself asking scary questions.  Questions like, say, "Why?"  Where do they come from?  I really can't say.  There are many variables, such as the type of day I have when I ask myself these questions, or my personality type, or the fact that I had/have depression/whatever the crap is wrong with me.  But I never know if these questions are valid due to all of these variables.
Music does a poor job of drowning out the idea that people are gone, but it does a job nonetheless.  And people are gone.  Not everyone, just the ones that kill me inside when they leave.  If there is a bright side to feeling things so very intensely, I'm not sure what it is.  And I will have myself know that I do have good days.  I have wonderful days.  I have days that make me realize everything is worth it all.  And yet, despite all of those beautiful moments; those watery sunsets and endless horizons and ground-shaking laughter; I always end up here.  But then again, I always go back up.  Maybe life is moving way too fast-- I fell behind retying my shoelace and now I can't get back.
"She's trying to cope with the fact that her sister's leaving again."
"She can't handle her boyfriend living an hour away."
"She is experiencing a lot of change due to school and graduating soon."
"She feels pressure, yet doesn't know what on earth to do with her life."
"She hasn't come to terms with the previous tragedies that she's witnessed or faced."
"Her depression is dragging her down, though her life is pretty great."
"She really misses him."
"She feels like she doesn't belong anywhere."
"She's trying to save everyone again."
"She's trying to save someone again."
Which one?  These, of course, are not the voices of anyone outside of my head.  Maybe I am useless, what with all these disabilities.  I distance myself because I don't know what to do.
The music helps, although not really.  I repeat the songs, even though they start to kill me after listening to them so much, but this is still infinitely better than facing whatever it is I won't think about.  My head is never empty, something will always fill in.  And whenever I try to explain to myself how I feel, so that I may better give an explanation to anyone else who really cares, I end up saying the same old unhelpful sentence every time.  "I'm just... struggling."
Why am I writing this?  Because something is destroying me and I'm not sure what it is.
I simply hold on to the hope that someday he and I will spend a Saturday morning in sweaters, making pancakes, and everything will be alright.