I find my life to be like looking into a book. It just feels so surreal. Obviously I know it actually happened, but oftentimes I wonder if it’s fabricated and what I believe to be true isn’t. I find myself lost in thought often, wondering the purpose of my existence. Wondering if I make my muse’s life harder. If there was a blimp in reality and I’m not suppose to exist. People say that you learn to live with your depression, but mine is a gnawing quicksand that threatens to consume me. I don’t know where it came from. I may have created it myself without knowing it, I know that I caused my own self hatred driven out of my want to be perfect. It’s possible I caused my own anxiety and depression issues, but how do you deal with that? Most people would agree that you can’t get rid of depression, that it won’t ever go away fully and you’re stuck dealing with it or focusing on something else so you don’t have to deal with it. For years I’ve just focused on other things, but I’m squishy when it comes to emotions.
Emotions, me and them?
To most, emotions are a part of your existence. You feel sad, happy, lonely, scared or angry. Everyone expresses them differently, to some they put on a fake face and pretend they aren’t there. For me, I am too emotional. If I get really happy I cry, if I’m sad, I cry. If I’m really angry I’ll end up crying. For some reason I can’t handle intense emotions without just crying. I hate it. It makes me seem weak, it makes me feel vulnerable.