This is my place on the Internet where I can be sad

What did I do wrong to be touched by this merciless illness that prevents me from pursuing that which my soul calls me to do?

Screen Shot 2015-09-29 at 1.02.40 PMI want to get better. I don’t want to obsess over some guy anymore. I want my independence from my codependence. I don’t want to struggle to wake up in the morning, to fold my sheets and brush my teeth. And, I don’t want to lie in those sheets later in fear of a night that won’t allow me unconciousness, and of another morning. I want to praise the new days and not look outside and feel so unfortunate to be living. I’m tired of the stabbing pain whenever my heartbreak returns and the uncontrollable tears whenever I think of the bleak, realistic future. It is so hard to have to steer my thoughts every day, to work so hard just to do something that is so natural to others—think—without falling over. I am tired of depression and I want it to go go away! I don’t want to live a life like this, I really don’t, and I don’t think I should have to. I don’t think I should have to continue living this. But it’s not that I don’t want to experience things, but I feel as if it’s impossible to truly experience anymore. I would love to feel passion and motivation and optimism and I would love to lose myself in life. But, I feel that I am half a person.

I want to get better, I do, and I mean that. I feel like I am finding out what I would love to do yet I am inhibited from completing those dreams—because how could I ever attempt such magnificent feats when I can barely get to work, class, and other commitments. I fail at these things and leave the impression of an unreliable, irresponsible individual, and I so badly don’t want to be. I’m so confused and I can’t think straight. I feel like a rope is pulling me back from my day to day. Like at a concert where there’s barriers preventing you from flowing over into a certain area. Those barriers are pushing against my stomach and stopping me from reaching the stage. Or maybe it’s more like police tape. I know I can cross it, it’s just tape—but I know that once I do so I’ll be immediately pulled back by a force who yells at me for leaving my place behind the marker. Or maybe, it’s best put as a construction fence. Look how clearly I can see to the other side. The other side is mesmerizing. I’m being pushed back by the gates. My wrists are tied and I’m using too much strength to pull against them, and I get tired easily. I try to operate from behind these fences but it’s a Herculean task.

The truth is, I don’t want to go back to the past. I don’t want to go back to him or to acting within the mask I did before. I don’t want to go back to having some solid group of friends who I’m not sure I really like, but keep because they exist, at least. I’d rather be alone. I really mean that. I’d rather be without friends, without protection, without him. to be honest, I agree when they say I am stronger, smarter and more mature because of all this, even though my response is always just that I’d choose stupidity over these feelings. I wouldn’t. In truth, I am okay living with broken bones. I just want to have a full body. I want to have a full body and never fear of being half a person ever again.

Every single moment it multiplies. They ask  me how it’s feeling but how can I explain? The depression, well, it’s always there, an invisible umbrella above my head. Yeah, I can have a good day, but does that mean I wasn’t depressed that day? No, because I remembered it when I woke up. I remembered it when I brushed my teeth. I remembered it when I went to class. I remembered it when I ate my dinner. I remember, I remember, I remember. It never goes. It is consciously roaming around in my mind.

I’m not really sure what good life is supposed to feel like. I don’t know what it’s supposed to look like, I don’t know what it’s supposed to smell like or taste like. I’ve been in this for so long. There was no point after adolescence where I lived non-depressed, so my whole adult life has been like this. (Granted, I haven’t been, biologically speaking, an adult very long). That makes it very frustrating. When will I know when I am better? They could do CAT scans or EKGs or check vital signs or some other objective like test for other illnesses. But what about us? When do we know that it’s gone? This prompts me to think that it never will be. This prompts me to think, I don’t want to live a life like this. I don’t want to live a life like this, I really don’t, and I don’t think I should have to. I don’t think I should have to continue living this…

But I’m not going to kill myself because I guess there is hope, however false or peculiar it may be. One day the ropes could be cut, maybe. Maybe the gates will be pushed down, or better yet, burned. Maybe the people suffering in the world will get help and maybe adversaries will find diplomacy. Maybe the current environmental situation will improve and people will continue to live possibly flourishing lives surrounded by happiness and nature. Maybe I’ll get better, and the depression won’t rebound. Maybe I’ll find someone I love to share my life with who isn’t him, maybe I’ll make my parents really proud, maybe I’ll be able to accomplish some of the things I feel my soul wants me to.

Right now though, it’s SO hard. I’ll have to let you know how it goes, Reader, but I make no guarantees. I’m just glad that there is such a vast space like the Internet, where one can make their own home and write whatever they want. This is mine.


Image: Fire Weave, Jeremy, 2007. Produced by Toby Keller of Burn Blue Photography, a Thailand based artist who creates light paintings with nature photography. This piece is part of a series called Dancers and Spinners.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s