It’s been a minute– a minute that I so desperately needed. I needed to be able to find solace in my new home, which I’m still actively seeking. Some people do great with adjusting to changes, but I’m not one of those people unfortunately. Every new sound– such as the creaking of the window AC unit kicking into gear– wakes me burdening me with insomnia. Disruptive dreams of which make absolutely no sense leave me wondering if there’s some hidden meaning throughout the following days and weeks.
Nature seems so distant suddenly although it’s normally the only thing in this world grounding me from my inner chaos. I feel naked and ashamed, yet I know that no one sees the rawness and vulnerability I’m feeling on the inside. There’s no feeling of loneliness quite like being surrounded by people who don’t understand you and don’t sense your pain and suffering.
Is this how things were before she chose to end it all? Even silence becomes so loud. There’s no peace in any of it. Why can’t I be like everyone else and just let. it. go?
I know why.
I can’t accept that depression and suffering is so frowned upon in our society. We’ve made half-assed efforts for reform of our system in regard to mental health, but even myself, in this very moment, find myself afraid to post anything on social media that is transparent of my emotions because I know people will judge, rather than reach out and show the smallest bit of concern or love. My best friend is gone because of this and I can’t help but hate everyone, including myself for that.
Why won’t we fight harder?