I’m not sad. In fact, depression isn’t sadness. Sometimes I can’t think,
most of the times all I can do is think about things I’d rather not. I think
about everything that has gone wrong and everything that is yet to go wrong. On
some mornings, I wake up, although some nights I haven’t slept at all. Sometimes,
I just want to sleep in so I could stay with my imaginary world where
everything is all about happiness.
But, I still get out of bed every
morning. I look
into my phone with a list of Good Morning texts from different people every
day. I don’t want to answer either of the text where every Good Morning text
comes with a big sun and flower, and I’ve to find something positive to answer.
I don’t want anyone to start asking me about my life or how well I’m doing
because I just want my friendship to stays above the shallow. I think about
every possibility that has a terrible ending. And I live through them, again
and again.
But, I still talk. I will still let the conversation
roll on just like any normal hangout. But I just want to hide under the
blankets, not because I’m lazy, not because I don’t have dreams, trust me I do.
Because I don’t think they’re real. I don’t think I can do it, and I lack the
motivation to try. I will tell myself to get up, I will tell myself I will
smile and laugh and have a productive day. But it’s hard to be motivated when
you just can’t feel.
But I still try. I still leave the house, I will attend that random
gathering and that unexpected dates. I want to laugh and smile and tell jokes
with my friends. I want to have dinner with my family and tell stories about my
day. But sometimes I don’t have a real reason, there’s nothing stopping me. But
I just can’t gather enough energy to do anything. But I’m still here. I stay up all night, watching the lights fade
away one after another and the sun rise back up.
I live for the moments like that, in hope one day, they will be my life.
I will keep going, because it’s the only thing left to do.