I haven’t written in several days. At first, it was because of a lack of privacy. While having others around, however, it was easier to get absorbed into various activities and even enjoy them a bit. When having a good time, it’s hard to break from that and write about depression. A good mood is such a fragile state that you don’t want to chance anything ruining it. So you run with it. My apologies.
I had a few good days. That’s not to say that the entire day was good. I’m not sure a depression-free day ever truly happens for me. There seems to always be something hiding behind the curtain, waiting to pop out. A simple “good day” doesn’t seem like too much to ask for. But when you get so close you can taste it, and the day is once again marred by depression, you begin to feel as if you must be punished for having fun.
Happiness sometimes feels surreal. It’s as if you’re borrowing someone else’s (a happy person’s) life and just renting it for the day. Just to get a taste of what it’s like. But the happiness isn’t truly yours. You don’t belong there because it’s not who you really are. Who are you trying to fool? You know better. Stop pretending.
Some of the “good” days were just… days. Notable only for their lack of bleeding emotions. While it was nice to not have an emotional meltdown for once, it was this kind of day I found truly disturbing. You see, without something good happening to make a day stand out in the opposite (positive) way, the entire day becomes colorless. All the motions are mundane. You feel empty with nothing to look forward to. At least with the crazy emotions of depression there’s a vibrancy to life. You’re alive because you are feeling something; even when it’s bad. It’s scary to think that all this time I’ve been chasing happiness, only to find out it could really be nothingness. What a disappointment that would be.
But maybe this, too, is the depression talking. Maybe what I thought was a “normal” day was still a bad one… just higher up on the happiness scale. Maybe I wasn’t as close to feeling what others feel as I thought I was. Maybe there’s more. I can only hope.
As I look around me watching others go about their day, they don’t seem to struggle like me. They don’t look like they are just waiting for time to pass, like me. They don’t seem to have to try as hard to grasp onto something that makes them feel good. It has to be me. There’s more. I believe that.
Now if I could just figure out how to get there……
What is happiness to you? How does it feel?