(no subject)
Today I feel better; drained, but better. I feel a little melancholy, but thats good because it means tomorrow Ill be better again. I hate being depressed; Its like not being sad but feeling sad, its such a confusing time for me. I joined some communities yesterday, ones filled with depressed people, I guess to find someone to relate to. Today I wish I hadnt. When I read the things those people write I am convinced that the things we are xperiencing are completely different, or atleast I like to think so. It seems like those people exist to be depressed; like it defines them. I guess if it is all they know, then it would be hard to be any other way.
Or maybe I just dont like them because they wear their depression so openly and I am so secretive about mine. I try not to show any one becauuse people like me arent supposed to be depressed. Afterall, what do I have to be depressed about? I feel wierd when people comment to my entries. Besides Alicia, no one reads my journals. I wish I cold go back to that kinda, but now that I joined those places people will read. Oh well. Maybe you all can relate to some of the things I write.
I refuse to let my depression define me though. Tomorrow I will go on like nothing happened, whic may not be great but definetly better. Anyway, it is times like these in between emotions that there isnt much to write.
Once I was riding the bus and an old man got on with a bundle of flowers, I think it was arond mothers day. He got on and gave a flower to all the women riding, and then sat down when he had none. I aways have remembered that. Something about it seems so poetic.
Or maybe I just dont like them because they wear their depression so openly and I am so secretive about mine. I try not to show any one becauuse people like me arent supposed to be depressed. Afterall, what do I have to be depressed about? I feel wierd when people comment to my entries. Besides Alicia, no one reads my journals. I wish I cold go back to that kinda, but now that I joined those places people will read. Oh well. Maybe you all can relate to some of the things I write.
I refuse to let my depression define me though. Tomorrow I will go on like nothing happened, whic may not be great but definetly better. Anyway, it is times like these in between emotions that there isnt much to write.
Once I was riding the bus and an old man got on with a bundle of flowers, I think it was arond mothers day. He got on and gave a flower to all the women riding, and then sat down when he had none. I aways have remembered that. Something about it seems so poetic.