If you ask me how I’m doing I’m going to tell you im good. I don’t want you to know how broken I am. And I how I really feel inside. I mean I don’t wanna paint a picture in your mind of me being “Good.” Because to be honest I just wish I was good
A lot of people don’t know. Yet they think they do. I fake a smile almost everyday just to please others. But I’m dying inside. I’m dying. Not because I’m afraid to live but because… that I don’t know. I always tell others you must love yourself but yet I fail to love myself. I’ve lost myself to a storm. I’ve been at my lowest peak for as long as I can remember. And It is depression. I’ve realized not many people want to hear me mooping and sobbing about how I feel but they rather hear me speak on false hopes that I have for myself. This is depression. Another victim. Another scar. Another person whose voice doesn’t get heard. You would think a asylum would help. But to Lock me up and put me in a stray jacket. Isn’t what I want. “But Isn’t that best way to solve depression? To lock you away and make sure you’re safe?” This is depression. Not wanting to do anything because you fear the wrong thing may happen. Or that people are intentionally doing things to hurt you. And no one wants to die alone trust me. I’m at my happiest when I’m not surrounded by my thoughts.
I want to say I’m relaxing and enjoying life but that’s not the case. Anixety is not the only thing that I deal with. I won’t say I suffer from anxiety because I know I can control how I feel only if I take control of my emotions. But at times I find myself to be weak. Drifting away. Like why do I live this life if all I feel is myself suffering? But then my inner voice speaks to me and tells me there is much greater out there for me. I know that we all go through trials and tribulations but why must I wake up to a fight? But not a fight with another being. But fight with myself. Like if things are supoose to get better why haven’t they already? You ever wonder what if this happen? …. nah that can’t happen that’s been done.. then paranoid thoughts start to follow. People wonder if I’m okay. “Oh yes I am.” Thats the lie I tell them and myself.. while thinking the same old shit what if I… thats not good to think like that… someone once told me I was crazy I was unstable I was insane. But then I asked myself years later was I ever insane crazy or unstable till I met them? And the answer was No. Hell no at that. I’m not crazy I’m nothing more than a human whose been hurt. But you know what if I’m crazy because how I feel. Then so fucking be it.