I wish there was an easy answer to explain how I feel. I don’t know why I wake up every morning feeling complete and utter resentment about the fact that I’m still breathing. I don’t know why I feel like I’m never ever good enough no matter what I do. It’s not like I was abused as a child, or bullied at school. It’s not like I’ve never had any friends or been that quite shy girl. It’s not like I have a bad relationship with my parents, or that I have had some big horrific event in my life.
It’s not like anything life-changing has happened to me really.
Yet still I feel like this.
I’m not sure if I’m depressed. I mean, I’m not sad. But I’m not exactly happy either. I can laugh and joke and smile during the day, but sometimes, when I’m alone at night I forget how to feel.
I don’t remember exactly when it started.
Maybe a year or two ago? I don’t even know how it started. Before I knew it I was pulling myself out of bed every morning and wishing the day would be over before it had begun.
I was faking smiles and laughing along with my friends, as if nothing had changed. But something had. Something snapped inside of me and I’ve never been the same since.
But it’s okay.
I’ve found a way of coping.
I’m an artist.
An artist in a dark and deadly way.
I draw in silver,
Yet it comes out red…
