If you haven’t been in that place, I can’t possibly explain it you. There is no way you will ever be able to understand how it feels in my head. Every word that you are about to read, you might sympathize with it, but unless you actually step in my shoes and feel how it bites you without physically hurting you, you would never know.
And that is the worst part of it all you know, you can’t make them feel what you feel – that is what kills you the most. They would ask you a thousand times what bothers you, and only you know that you would trade the world for knowing the same thing. I’m more than grateful that I was able to hop out of it before it crawled its’ way under my skin; I’m glad that it ended before it could really start.
I have had some of the worst of days in my life, but the three months that tortured me to death were nothing in comparison. What I went through still give me chills to this day and I only pray that no one ever has to go through anything like that. Ever again. Life is so much easier when you feel. Just feel. It’s like having a blocked nose or a headache, only with no visible symptoms. You realize something is wrong and miss the days when everything was just not unusual. People, the one who love you, want to help, but how can they if they don’t know what is twisting in your stomach? So they ask you, and you don’t know it either.
A lot of others will tell you a thousand tales about it, and make assumptions about you. How is it possible that you don’t know about your own problems? This is just another excuse for being lazy. It’s all in your head. Stop thinking about it. Do you not have any better way of being an attention hogger? It’s going to be okay if you stay in routine. How am I supposed to deal with it? How am I supposed to look for answers and reasons if I don’t really know what the problem is?
It starts this way. You lose yourself; you wake up one day and nothing is the same.
Do you know about black holes? The ones that absorb everything that goes near them, even light? They are form when a star collapses. It’s kind of like that. Nothing comes out, everything you have ever felt is dissolved. There are no ways to explain what you’re going through. Sometimes, I wasn’t even sure anymore if I was really depressed or just pretending to be, to find my way out of everything. I would cry and few hours later, I would rethink if I actually wanted to cry.
I would blame my loneliness and my introversion for everything that was happening to me, I was up nights wondering why I wasn’t like everybody else, why I had to be the center of such a terrifying hurricane.
The energy inside you, it tries so hard to get out but hardly finds a way out and when it does, it does things to you that even beat your worst nightmares. At the end of the day, when you have so much going on inside you, yet nothing, they will treat you as just another excuse because you don’t show any physical signs and you don’t go to a doctor for cure. Believing in the word of mouth has been a tough challenge for the homo sapiens, and I don’t blame them – it’s the way it is.
The night before I came to college for the spring semester, I had guests come over to my place and I was crying for hours like a baby.
My mom said, it was probably because I was going to miss home, but trust me, I would’ve known if it was for that. There wasn’t any specific reason, I was going nuts and knowing that I couldn’t mingle along with my relatives only made it worse. When I asked for a little help, I was told to shut up and lock myself in my room if I couldn’t be nice with the guests. Was it really my fault? Wasn’t that situation terrifying enough for me that you had to leave me alone too? I could’ve used a hug. The silliest decision was to handle it on my own, to not talk about it and to avoid taking meds. Had it been the case, I don’t think anything better than what I already had and was could’ve come out. Without a support system, it’s all pointless. Being in your own hell is bad enough, I can’t imagine being called a whack job for no reason. I wanted to talk to someone about it, I really did. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.
Nonetheless, I’m not the same person I was six months ago, and I feel better about it. If it wasn’t for an old friend, I don’t know where I would have been. She taught me how to fight and how to stay. Thank you so much for that, I am glad we found our way out. Honestly, if I was told to feel that way again, I don’t think I can, not voluntarily. It’s impossible. It’s like that unavoidable flu – if you don’t have it, you don’t. There’s no pretending in that.