Depression Is My Kryptonite

Epiphany

WARNING: This chapter includes a very odd mood swing. So just stick around and stick it out.

I don't think I should talk about the things I feel anymore.
Whether it be through writing, texting, face to face conversation, etc.
I don't know if it's a pride thing.
Or a guilty conscious.
I have no clue.
But I am so tired of hurting people because of what I feel.
I'm so tired of roping people into my emotional turmoil.
Of course I'm going against that by writing this.
But maybe it was better when I wasn't honest about all of this stuff.
When no one knew a single thing about me.
The isolation.
Maybe that's better for everyone.
Maybe then they would all stop caring, as if they haven't already.
Except for one.
I doubt this will make any sense to you.
And I'm sorry.
I got good at pushing people away and I let my guard down with you and I think I may have trapped you in my own selfish ways of expression.
I know our recent conversations should clear that up for me.
But I some how keep convincing myself that everything is just one big delusional fantasy.
Gah.
It'd be better than killing myself though, you must admit.
To go back to pretending.
Why am I crying?
Possibly because I know how it felt when I was that way.
Having no one who could actually tell what was going on was terrible.
Depressing.
It made me a great actress though.
I was decent at concealing it all back then.
But now.
Now I keep slipping up.
I keep falling for people and their traps.
I became foolish.
Letting people in is a dangerous game.
And I wasn't treading very carefully.
That's how you get your heart broken.
That's the reason words cut deeper than the blades hidden away.
That's why I feel so broken.
Empty.
Numb.
No. What am I saying?
Being open has saved my life this year.
Having some sense of truth behind what actually occurs in this damn brain of mine gave me purpose.
Why do I keep wanting to take that away from myself?
I'm sorry that I am so messed up.
But that's who I am.
I'm a fucked up ball of weird chaotic love.
And I'm tired of my brain trying to tell me differently.
Sorry about this chapter.
And the very obvious mood swing.
I honestly wish it had come sooner.
Before I decided to write this.
Being honest is way better than hiding behind a mask.
Talking to you yesterday is proof of that.
That was the best, most honest philosophical conversation that I've had in a very long time.
And hanging out with you Wednesday, although I was ill, it helped me through this stupid streak of numb neglect.
Things are back to regular programming now.
Just been a rough day.
I'm okay though.
And I'll talk to you soon.