It has only been in the last two years or so that I've realized that I am not quite normal. You would think I would have figured this out years ago, but it just never dawned on me. Not all people think like this? Not all people act like this? Not all people feel this way?
It wasn't until a close friend had a breakdown and opened up about her struggles with anxiety and depression that I realized that there was something wrong with me - and that it had a name. I have no diagnosis (doctors are expensive), but the reading I have done has made me so much more aware of what is going on inside of me.
People tell me to snap out of it. They tell me it will get better. But the truth is, it really won't. I feel broken all of the time. My moods swing so constantly that even I can't get a grip on how I feel. Even when I am arguably happy, I can't snap out of this feeling of brokenness, of hopelessness, of not understanding why things are so bad. I am contemplative and thoughtful to a detrimental degree. I feel things more deeply than I can even express - and then other times, I forget what it is like to feel at all.
Today was one of many days that brought me to near breaking points, to monumental lows - and I wasn't even able to explain WHY I was so low. Things triggered it, sure, but no normal person would feel this low after such inconsequential conversations.
Today, I just imagined how it would feel to chase a bottle of sleeping pills with a tall margarita. Today, I just imagined what it would feel like to let nothingness wash over me like the sea. Today, I just imagined what it must be like to just cease to exist, to stop fighting so hard to go on, to finally be done with this tormented mind.
But today I remembered that not every day is like today. Today, I remembered that sometimes, I feel tinges of real, genuine happiness. And today, I made a conscious effort to go on.