Euthymic? Dysthemic?

Is S falling out of love with me?
Do I make her feel bad?
I can see her patience wearing thin and falling away like the dust of old mortar from ancient bricks.
I so want to be happy
and I want her to be happy.
I am depressed.
I fear that to say it is to lose the very thing that keeps me sane: S.
I wouldn't blame her, though. I wouldn't wish me upon anyone. I've managed to make a pretty decent pig's breakfast of my life so far.

I am depressed.
I hate my existence.
It is grotesque.
Life is better off
without me.
I am a failure
in every part of my life
and I can't seem to see the good in things anymore.
There is no-one on this Earth to talk to whom I love.
So why am I trapped in this existence?

I can feel the life
draining out of me.
Like water from a cracked pot.
It dribbles out
and you try
to catch it with your hand
underneath.
It runs through
your fingers
and the wet,
cool
moist skin
is all that
reminds you
that my life
even existed.
It lies now formless
in a wasted,
ugly,
useless
pool
on the floor.
Someone else's problem now.