2:22 am.– draft from 2 months ago.

It’s 2:22 am, as you may have guessed by the title of this post.

I’m sitting here, on my bed, and I can’t sleep. Or maybe I don’t want to sleep.

I feel so overwhelmed with life. Life; all it offers and all it takes.

On one hand, I am insanely stressed about finding a new job, earning the money I need, buying a car, moving out, loving myself, being healthy, etc, etc.

On the other hand, I am in complete awe of the beauty and wonder there is in this world; in this life. I am so very grateful for that beauty.

 —

I sometimes think to myself, “Life feels impossible,” but then I see all that is good in the world.

I see my family and friends. I see my dog and cat. I see my 3 beautiful nieces and handsome nephew. They feel like my everything. They feel like my happiness.

I see pictures of people all around the world. Beautiful, wonderful souls.

People that have almost no teeth, people who have diseases, pains, and trials that I will likely never suffer from.

These people are sometimes smiling, sometimes not.

I see these people, and I feel like they are my dearest of friends. I want so, so badly to reach into that photograph and hold their hand, run my fingers through their hair, wipe the tears from their cheeks. And the ones that are smiling,  I want to smile with them. I want to experience that happy moment with them.

I want to hold them tight and make things good. Make things happy. I want to be happiness; I want to radiate happiness. I honestly crave nothing more than to travel the world, meet and interact with new people, experience different cultures, and help people. I feel like I want to show my love to everyone in the world. People who need love in their life.

 —

I think that’s kind of where it gets tricky for me. Yes, I have clinical depression. And, yes, I am sad a lot. But, trust me, I don’t want this. It isn’t easy. What makes it even harder is that a lot of people don’t understand depression.

I feel incredibly guilty when I feel sad. I don’t want to be a person who only focuses on themselves. That’s kind of how this becomes a vicious cycle. I feel sad, and then I feel mad and/or sad at myself for feeling sad. I sometimes feel ashamed for how I feel. But, what does that do to help me? Nothing.

The world sees depression as a weakness. Therefore, am I weak?

Trust me, I’ve felt weak more times than I can count.

I’m shy. I have social anxiety. I feel ugly and fat every single day. I worry I’ll never be ‘enough,’ and that a man will never truly love me.

 —

But, I am strong. I have to be strong. Even saying “I’m strong” makes me feel like I’m bragging or something. It’s like I can’t even compliment myself without feeling guilty about it.

What is this life I live?

I do not want people to see me in a way that I am not.

 

 

 

 

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