Sincerely October

Summer depression

A miscellaneous chapter.

Hollow
You wake up wanting to return to bed because right now nothing fills you, every task feels like waiting and staring at the clock until it's over.
The cycle feeds into itself endlessly. You don't want to do anything because you feel awful and you feel awful because nothing is getting done.
You've accepted that this is just a part of your life, this is just another thing that comes and goes but that doesn't mean it's not exhausting.
You are moving through life without a concrete sense of happiness waiting and wondering when it will end.

Psychosis
You've grown to accept this as another facet of your life, another undeniable fact of life like anything else would be.
Sometimes the hallucinations terrify you, sometimes they dry your eyes, regardless, they always remain.
Sometimes you resent having a mind like your own, a mind that tells you stories, a mind that feeds you false perceptions, sometimes you choke on the weight of it all.
There have been many moments in which the hallucinations felt more real than the world around me and the person in front of me, I watched as a dreamy haze played out in front of me.
Sometimes the hallucinations hold me, they make me feel safe in a way I can't put into words.
Regardless of how I feel they are always there, distorting my views and lingering in the shadows.

There is no why
There is still a child within me who is scared he will be hurt again, there is still something within me that knows I broke the rules by telling the truth, there is a child within me who still wants to love the person who hurt him even when he is trembling with terror at his hand.
The fear remains, it lingers in late nights and dark corners.
I still have to remind myself that I did the right thing, that I had to tell the truth before it choked me, but when the nights grow late I feel that I ruined a family.
It's not rational, is it? Having the sense that I am the one at fault when I know otherwise.
I am mourning what could have been, I am mourning the brother that could have loved me but never did. I
I am overcome by jealousy when I see a brother who loves his brother in a way that doesn't hurt. You were supposed to protect me and I am suffering because you never saw me as a human being.
It's all so vile, overwhelmingly disgusting, knowing that you chose me because I wouldn't tell anyone, that you could have chosen her, that I'm glad you chose me.
I still feel like I am the dirty one, that something in my body needs to be scrubbed away because something I did told you it was okay to touch me like that. I used to wonder why but I know now that no answer of his would satisfy me. I don't want to know why, there is no why, there never was.

On feeling good
I used to think that happiness meant feeling good, happiness was a sharp ache in my nose and a burning in my throat. Surely that was happiness, certainly that was what I was looking for.
In those same moments I found myself crushed by the weight of never ending dissatisfaction, never feeling like I had enough, never feeling good enough, never high enough.
I found myself more empty than I was when I started, discovering that happiness is more than feeling good.
I have come to believe that happiness is satisfaction, happiness is feeling like this life is enough for me, that I am enough for me, that I can be filled without a chemical con job to bring me there.