There are days I feel so disconnected from everything. I wish I could just evaporate like a drop of water on the pavement in August in Florida.
I feel like I’m floating away, like one of those balloons that a child lets go of at the fair, drifting into the sky, never to be seen again.
I know people care, and love me, they would miss me if I were gone. But they don’t understand.
Why are you so sad? What are you crying about? Be grateful for what you have.
Every question or statement like that makes me feel more and more invisible. I disconnect a little more with each person that tries to cheer me up in such a way. Good intentions be damned, think before you speak. By telling me to be grateful, you’re implying that I’m not, and it becomes obvious you don’t know me at all.
This is why I have very few friends. And why I don’t really reach out to the few that I have when the tears are unstoppable and the pain unbearable. It gets old, even for my friends that have experienced it and actually understand it. If you don’t think it gets old for me, let me tell you. I ask myself why I’m crying, why it hurts so much, why I can’t just stop the madness that suffocates all rational thought processes in my brain. I have no answers, only tears and frustration.
People ask me how I’m doing, but they don’t want to know that sometimes I think death might be less painful than living. So I just tell them I’m hanging in there, and that satisfies them. I try not to let them see me cry, they don’t know how to respond anyway, it’s just awkward for everyone and hurts the people who truly love me.
My depression makes people uncomfortable. News flash, I’m far more uncomfortable than you are.