This is something that I wrote a while ago. Though I’m certainly a different person than I was in the peak of my depression, there are still moments when things seem scarier than usual. I still find myself navigating difficult thoughts and emotions; one’s mental health isn’t ephemeral or temporary. It requires care and attention. Sometimes, it’s okay to be vulnerable and feel everything deeply and fully. I know times are crazier than ever before, but if you’re reading this and feeling like I felt, hang in there. Tomorrow is only a few breaths away.
In the most objective sense, I feel a permanent solitude; I suppose It has always been with me, and sometimes, I was more aware of It’s presence than other times. But I don’t understand this loneliness that consumes my being. I have loved ones in this world, but all of them are thousands of miles away. And that distance seems to be infinitely greater when you’re on one continent and they’re on another. In times like these, my mind likes to wander to times gone by; as if a tiny dose of nostalgia would quickly cure my bout of seclusion. And when that happens, I feel exponentially shittier. It’s as if I’m in a dream, but even in that distant world, I’m not in control of what’s about to happen. And then, the incidents of those whom you most cherished and trusted walking out on you, leaving you in the dirt, replay themselves with full ferocity. I know you can’t really turn back time and return to the “good, old days.” But fuck, knowing the certainty of time’s persistent forward march is depressing. Away from my family and friends, in times of distress, I often scramble. I’m 20 years old, but I still find my mind racing at a million miles per hour like it used to as a toddler. There are still moments when I feel as if I’m not in control of my emotions, thoughts, or actions, and that at any instant I could just break down. Perhaps I will break down after completing this, but back to my prevailing train of thought. How does one navigate through today’s world? They say that one should seek comfort in the ones you feel closest to and enjoy life’s beauties with them. But how does one do that if you feel distant from everyone around you? In a room of a hundred people, I’d still feel alone. On a crowded sidewalk, with bustling pedestrians and honking cars, I still feel alone. I don’t know whether there will be a catharsis or any respite. As hopeless and sad as that sounds, it’s true. I often write about how there is that figurative light at the end of the tunnel, but sometimes, I don’t fucking know. Is there some reprieve? Or will this continuous fluctuation of my psyche continue all throughout my life? Whatever the answer to those questions is, I’m exhausted. I’m trying to keep a brave face. I really, really am. When things seem too bleak, I try to keep my chin up and push through the day. When the voice in my head tells me I’m a loser more vehemently than usual, I try to brush it off. When I see people holding hands as they walk down the street, when I see friends laughing and losing themselves in each other’s company, when I see people wrap each other in a drunken embrace at a party, I fight with all the strength in my being to hold back my impulse to cry. That can’t be fucking normal, can it? Again, I don’t know. But why do I have to be so goddamn complicated? Why? Are people around me just doing a better job of concealing it than I am? Or am I just more fucked up than most? I can’t decide. Despite all this confusion, I am certain of one thing. When I wake up in the morning, the sun will come out, and magically, this flurry of troubling thoughts in my head will vanish. And when that happens, I’ll start to view life with a glimmer of optimism. I know I will. Some days are better than others, but the point is that all I can really do is keep trying. I know I’ve stressed the importance of this before, but the sentiment is flawless. I have to keep trying. I guess the object of writing this was to seek some catharsis, but I want to finish this off by saying you’re not alone. I know there are people out there who feel the same way that I do. I think I’m certain of that much. And to those that do relate, let me say this: hang in there. Tomorrow is a new day full of possibilities. It may be worse than today, but there’s also an equal chance that it’ll be better. And isn’t that worth trying to find out?