no it really isnt.
sometimes i like to believe that people with mental illness have a better view on life, are more appreciative people, more artistic and more grateful.
then there are days like today where i step back and realize that i have been living in a diluted reality. i have been eating and sleeping in this dark hole of depression, kidding myself that i was in fact not depressed only to realize it now.
it takes one word. one person leaving me high and dry. one phrase to remind me. one look at my giant ass in a storefront window...
then the thoughts come racing and the tears start flowing and suddenly i stop and see a mess in the mirror. mascara dripping down my cheeks, my eyes red and tired, and my face just worn from sadness.
i see a hollow shell of the vibrant woman i know i am.
suddenly it hits me how tired i am.
im tired from carrying the weight on my own.
im tired from running and pretending to be so strong.
im tired of being alone and misunderstood.
im tired of being rejected and abandoned for not being "normal."
maybe though... maybe the weight really is a gift.
maybe i just cant see it yet.
all i can see is that i make people upset with me for not being able to control my feelings or not being rational.
all i can tell you is that i hurt for some unknown reason and the littlest phrases or silences hurt me in ways i can not even begin to explain.
i wish i knew why.
i wish i knew why i hurt so bad some days.
i wish i k new why i felt so alone and rejected other days.
i wish there were logic for my feelings or a handbook for those brave enough to be close.
anyone that deals with depression knows these feelings and thoughts and i am not a psychopath or a weirdo to them.
i dont like being able to feel on this level and have no control over what i feel.
i hate sleeping beautiful days away because of a mother fucking chemical imbalance.
maybe the weight is really a gift.... for me or for someone else...
i just really dont like dealing with these feelings anymore.