April 2, 2019
My bedroom
Depression is contagious. I feel like I have the flu. I sneeze because of my allergies. Or something. I have a heavy head and blank mind. Thoughts are tough. And more importantly, thoughts are scary. What if the love of my life and I weren’t meant to be?
How am I supposed to face the fact that the one person who seems to be my anchor may also be contributing to my mood?
He doesn’t seem to understand, which is okay. But he doesn’t seem to try. I’m not saying that he doesn’t want to. He cares, he’s concerned. But I would appreciate if he went a few steps further. Maybe do some research, try to see what he could do, or understand what it is I am going through. No matter how much I explain, it’s not the same.
I’m so so tired. Tired enough to feel unwell. I keep thinking of how good it would be to not be. To not exist. So that I’m not so fatigued. And I’m not being dramatic. It is not just sadness, or being upset. It isn’t. I feel like I’m being dismissed like it is. I know, because I did that to myself too. But I was wrong. It is more.
