Something I Don’t Want You To Know About Me

This is not another “I was dead broke and unhappy, now my life is amazing” story, though I wish it was. I don’t write it to make anyone feel sorry for me, pity is the last thing I’ve ever wanted. I just hope that maybe when I finally get it out of my chest I will feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.  I don’t even care how many people, if anyone, will read this but if you do maybe you can relate somehow. I just honestly hope you don’t. 

I once read an article where someone compared this feeling to a tar pit. No matter how hard you try to climb out, you only sink deeper into blackness. Maybe that’s partially true but for me it’s more like a Death Eater. Everyone who’s ever read or seen Harry Potter knows this dark creature whose life’s mission is to suck out every good emotion. I think I have my own personal Death Eater following me everywhere I go, lurking around the corner and waiting for perfect moment to get me. But to be honest there’s no such thing as perfect moment. It doesn’t care whether I’m happy or sad. I might be having the time of my life and then it comes and takes everything.

It’s like you were the happiest person alive just a second ago but now the feeling of hopelessness washes over you. And there’s this stabbing pain in your chest coming straight from your soul. Your entire body is aching and you can do nothing about it, there are no painkillers, no rescue. You can’t breathe and feel the tears pricking your eyes, burning under your eyelids. Every single time you can feel your heart cracking up into tiny little pieces that come together just to be broken all over again. What if I’m never going to be happy again? What if I’m not good enough? Will I ever be? Will I ever make it? Maybe, just maybe it would be better if I just disappear?

Don’t cry. It’s gonna be ok, you’re gonna be ok. Everything is fine. I lost track how many times I was telling this to myself, thinking that maybe if I say it enough it will be true.

Funny thing, everyone around tells you to talk. Talking will help. Time will help. I’ve tried talking, I’ve tried time. I’ve wanted to let them know how much it hurts, hoping they will eventually understand how difficult it is. Wish I didn’t do that. You know, some people really might want the best for you, they just can’t understand. You end up hearing: “get yourself together” all the freaking time. Wouldn’t you do just that if it was so simple? Or “It will get better”. Will it, really? So you stop talking. You start pretending that everything is fine and then cry your eyes to sleep when you’re finally alone. Time doesn’t help either. It only shows you how much life passed right in front of your eyes and there are not many things worse than living day by day with nothing but regrets. Trust me on that.

If you’re lucky enough to be in a relationship, you mess it up big time no matter how solid it might seem. You just can’t be fully in it because part of you is constantly occupied by those ugly thoughts, your own private hell you can’t see escape from. They ask you what’s wrong but you don’t have the answer. It’s just wrong. Everything is wrong. But I love you. And then they leave. Why would they stay? Why would they stand you if you can’t stand yourself? It makes you feel even worse because it’s all your fault, because you weren’t there when they needed your attention. You weren’t entirely there when something amazing was happening in their life. All you did was putting your burden on them until they got tired. The worst part is that you were completely aware of it. Why did I do that? Why was I such a fool? But it’s too late. Eventually they leave seeking something better, something normal, something healthy. You love them too much to ask them to stay.

No matter how many times you wished to be alone it turns out you don’t want it at all. It starts killing you again because you fucked up every good thing in your life. You can’t turn back time and you sink even further, you would do anything to just stop feeling at all. Everyone wakes up grateful for another day and you go to bed wishing there is no tomorrow. You’re tired of everything. Even taking the trash out makes you tired. Things you used to love lost all meaning. It’s like a vicious circle you can’t stop. It should motivate you but you feel powerless, like it will never change, like you’re stuck forever in it. In the tar pit with a Death Eater waiting to suck every last part of life left in you. You try your best to change it, do something about your life and fail, fail, fail. Then you wonder how much more of it you can take. How much more you can fight. Does it ever get better?

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