Sometimes I just wish I’d had the guts to get it over with the first time.The thought crosses my mind a lot lately.
I am so tired of struggling.I know I’m not the only one, but the only head I’m in is mine.I just want ONE thing to start going right, instead of trying to cram pieces together that never seem to fit.
Facing the reality of having accomplished so little to get my life back on track in (going on) four years now ... I just can’t effing stand it sometimes, and I want out.I’m tired of playing this game and watching everybody else win.A-holes that don’t deserve to win get to raise their trophies and gloat, and to be honest it makes me really friggin’ bitter sometimes.Okay: a lot of the time.
These are the feelings you’re not supposed to admit, that you don’t dare speak aloud, so I lay them out here where no one gives a damn ... much the same as in real life.
Perched in a church pew at my cousin’s wedding this weekend, all I could think about was my parents’ dissolving marriage.The start of a new family; the end of another.This “impending” divorce just can’t seem to make itself happen.Over a year later, there are no papers signed and appearances would suggest that nothing’s really changed.And yet soon, I’ll be one of ‘those’ people (whatever that means, right?) from a broken family with no home to go back to.Get it over with already, I think constantly.
The difference between me now and me a few years ago is that naive old me believed without reason and beyond reason that things were going to get better.If I just get through this, or make it to that, or accomplish the next most important goal, it’ll all work out in the end.
It’s not the presence of happiness I long for, but the absence of misery.And that sentiment epitomizes the core of depression that outsiders have no grasp of; in my mind I hear traces of a thousand know-it-all phrasings of the “well nobody’s happy all the time” line the blissfully ignorant throw around.Only somebody who’s basically happy most of the time would be stupid enough to say something like that to people who think about killing themselves.It’s ‘cause we believe we should be happy all the time and us self-obsessed whiners aren’t, gosh darn it!
“I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man with no feet.” That’s how my mother would put it, anyway; in a judgment-laden cliche purporting to be a comforting truism.