I wrote this a while back but it’s still so accurate today so I wanted to share.
I am sick of trying. Sick of finding the infinite same responses to my most-asked questions. I want to dig out of my loneliness, my emptiness — my depression? I have dwelt upon my doleful thoughts many times. As much as it’s been a relief, and a pleasure to find the right words to put my pain into at times, I feel like I’ve done enough of it. Writing is an activity I will always cherish. I cannot live without it. But it is not enough. I want more. My morose disposition hinders me from moving. I came to the point where I can’t fight anymore. I do get up each morning. I wear this pretty mask all day long. I go to sleep at night, effortlessly trying to get some sleep but never getting enough of it. In all these moments, I absorb the pain and the sadness. I take the blows, get back up, and suffer in silence. That’s a never-ending feeling. I am so possessed by it that I almost can’t feel it anymore.
The little insights I’ve had on overcoming such obstacles lit up my hopes for a while. And though they reappear sometimes, it never lasts long. Because…
Writing my feelings down in a diary isn’t enough anymore.
Reading relatable stories isn’t enough anymore.
Praying that each day that passes will be fine isn’t enough anymore.
Awaiting impatiently for a short-lengthen event (that might make me smile) to occur isn’t enough anymore.
Holding onto inspirational quotes isn’t enough anymore.
Hoping that someone, anyone, sees my posts on social media, those in which I dwell more or less explicitly about it all, and that someone will reach out to me — whilst deep down I know that nobody notices me — isn’t enough anymore. And I’m tired of it.
None of this is enough anymore. I want something concrete. I can’t rely on expectations and wishes anymore. And yet I keep on being delusional, filled with crumbling dreams and shattering thoughts.
I need someone to take my hands and guide me.
I need someone to hold me in their arms.
I need someone to say: “I know you’ve been pretending all along”.
I need someone to know me.
I need someone to be listening even though their words might not always be right.
I want to take someone in my arms, tell them they’re just fine the way they are. I am willing to take somebody under my wings and make them see how beautifully they can fly. I want to tell someone the well-known three-word sentence and show my infinite support. I want to break through someone’s shell, notice how torn apart they have been and tell them how much I care about their hidden sadness. I know what it is like not only to feel invisible but to be invisible. I know that no matter how introvert and shy I am, being in the spotlight can feel really good, because for a single instant you are aware you can be noticed, you can be seen and you do matter. Invisibility is a burden.