I go through each day pretending to
be okay, and in fact some days I am. Some days I wake up and I’m just ready to
take on the world, but there are other days when I don’t want to move from my
bed. Days when I feel like the struggling never ends and I can’t think
straight, and everything is just dull. But I get up still, because I know I have
to.
I tell my friends everything is fine;
I laugh with them, and I go out to eat with them. I act like nothing in the
world is bothering me. No one ever question me, maybe they ask me what’s wrong
if I’m being noticeably quiet. Maybe they give me a little nudge and chat about
everything and nothing. And I smile, I tell them things will be fine, I
know they will. Maybe I will start to believe it if I constantly tell myself
that.
I try to be cheery. I know what it
feels like to be in darkness so I want to be the one who can spread light onto
others. I want to convince people that things aren’t as bad as they seem. I
don’t want people to fall into darkness where it’s almost impossible to stand
back up from. The darkness doesn’t just hit me when I’m alone in the room, it
hits me everywhere, it doesn’t care what I am doing, but I try to ignore it, so
it doesn’t feel like I’m breaking apart.
Then you start running away from
everything. You start ignoring the dates, the text messages that come in one
after another. I hate when someone ask me constantly how’s my day? I had
a great day every day, but I just feel like shit. I wonder what would
happen if I just left and never look back. But the pandemic has disagreed with
me over the past 2 years and has kept me lock in to face my own problems.
I’ve learned to live with my
darkness ever since, almost like a friend that lingers. I know it’s
unavoidable. Some days are harder than others, but every other day I know I
just have to push it through. So, I wear on that smile, I laugh, and I
get shit done.