Empty Pages

Something is missing from my life.  I am fighting a looming depression.  I get through each day individually with a sunny disposition.  But thinking about the past or the future challenge so many emotions I go numb with the overwhelming nature of tackling how to move on in my life.  It's not a lot to do.  But it's a lot for me, a lot of moving forward, which I've realized is very hard for me to do.  A lot of wanting more for myself so that I can afford to want less later on.  Just growth in some major areas.  I hope I am ready to face some issues with strength and dignity, and ask for help when needed.  So right now I feel like each day is an empty page.  An empty page of poetry I could have written, an empty list of accomplishments I could have garnished, or thoughts I could have explored, goals reached, life lived.  My complacency might be my undoing.  I am aware, I just need to find the means of acting on it.