I spend most weeknights getting drunk and crying on my bathroom floor. It’s cliché I know, but I find myself always breaking down when I’m forced to stare at myself in the mirror. I spend the weekends at the bars getting drunk enough to where I no longer retain the attention span to remember the unhappiness that I feel lodged inside of me.
Unhappiness is like a poison you are exposed to every day. But each day you are only exposed to a small dose. It’s not enough for you to notice at first, but it builds up every day. Once you breathe it in, it doesn’t escape your body. It stays inside of you. It feeds off of you. Eventually you start to feel this force working against you. It may take some time for you to understand what it is. Maybe it’s unhappiness or maybe it’s something else. I can’t tell you how to feel.
But it’s not the unhappiness that is making me cry. It is not the unhappiness that makes me feel miserable. Although I am unhappy, I can suppress those emotions. I am in control of my unhappiness. The unhappiness doesn’t make me cry. The guilt makes me cry. The guilt is what breaks the barrier. The guilt of being unhappy is what makes me sink to my knees. The guilt of being unhappy surrounds me and I can no longer hold it together. I lose it more nights than I would like to admit.
Guilt doesn’t matter if you’re sober, drunk or high. If I push myself I can get to a point where I don’t feel guilt anymore but am still left with an uncomfortable amount of intoxication. And waking up the next morning feeling shame, embarrassment and even more guilt is starting to outweigh the short time of guiltlessness I feel when under the influence.
If someone were to take a microscope to my life, they would not be able to find a reason for my unhappiness. Maybe this is a quarter-life crisis or maybe this is just a mental breakdown, I don’t know. I feel guilty for being unhappy because I don’t have a reason to be unhappy. I don’t have a reason to be unhappy but I am miserable.
There’s the saying that if everyone were to throw their problems into a pile you would take back your own just as soon as you threw them. I don’t doubt this at all. I feel the same way. Thoughts like these just add to my guilt. The guilt is worse than my unhappiness. I would take my own problems back but I am still unhappy. I don’t know how to stop feeling the guilt for my unhappiness.
I’ve reached an end. I just don’t know how to stop feeling guilty about being unhappy. Am I allowed to be unhappy? Is that a question I’m allowed to ask? Who is supposed to answer that question? I don’t want to give you my background information. I don’t want to tell you the demographics of my family. I don’t want to tell you about my personal relationships. I don’t want to tell you how much schooling I’ve had, the opportunities I’ve had, what car I drive, or if I’m in debt. I don’t want to share if I support myself or still rely on my parents. I don’t want to tell you my future plans. But please let me clarify, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.
Because if I tell you these things you will not understand how I could be unhappy. And I can’t tell you why I’m unhappy either. All I can tell you is, I feel so guilty about being unhappy. I can live with the unhappiness, but I cannot live with the guilt.