Where in my head is the life I left behind
Is that all? What... theres nothing more?
I think a lot of people read my journal now so I can't write in it anymore, it was stupid to let people read it hoping that something good may come out of it, letting people see things from my point of view is unfathomable, because my point of view is seeing through everyone elses. Just a hollow metamorphical shape, that changes and molds to create happiness in others, so that happiness hopefully will rub off and fill me, for a short time. There are times when I am solid, and believe my own personal pain is to be taken seriously when I should really know it shouldn't, then there are others where I am just a wide open gate, and everyones emotions fill me, their stories, their conversations, their happiness their sorrow their regret their revenge their insecurity...
Depression, is too general a term that I wouldn't want to use on myself. For some, it comes and goes as if those particular moments were the most sharp pain of all. For others, it is a dull ache that never leaves, a constant reminder.
They say its a sense of you, as a human being, is lacking something in life. That sounds ridiculous, we're all lacking something all the time, otherwise why would we bother to do anything. I can't say I know what it is, I can't argue between some chemical imbalance or just a spiritualistic fluctuation in your own energy. So why, if I know nothing of all of this, could I ever admit to depression? I would rather not, I would then just have an excuse for feeling certain ways, although depression runs in my family, I do not want to be so self pitying as to say "I'm misunderstood, I'm depressed, my life is full of dissatisfaction" Even if it was true, I wouldn't admit to it. Right now, my life doesn't really lack anything. I have had a happy childhood, a protective (a little over-protective but I believe it turned out for the positive making me want to strive for more independence) and loving family of a mother, father and sister. We eat good and live in a big house. My parents are still together, and pretty much the average happy but long marriage couple. I do not have any learning dissabilities, and am quite adaptable to new situations. I grew up in an alternative school style and still am, most people I meet like me and want to be my friend, but I never feel close to really anyone. I have a couple close knitted friends, and some real freaking awesome people in my life. Yet, through everything, ever since I was little there has been something following me, I would be brought to my knees shaken with sadness, and I never understood why. I liked to pretend that it was someone elses sadness leaking through me, because I had no other excuse.
I think a lot of people read my journal now so I can't write in it anymore, it was stupid to let people read it hoping that something good may come out of it, letting people see things from my point of view is unfathomable, because my point of view is seeing through everyone elses. Just a hollow metamorphical shape, that changes and molds to create happiness in others, so that happiness hopefully will rub off and fill me, for a short time. There are times when I am solid, and believe my own personal pain is to be taken seriously when I should really know it shouldn't, then there are others where I am just a wide open gate, and everyones emotions fill me, their stories, their conversations, their happiness their sorrow their regret their revenge their insecurity...
Depression, is too general a term that I wouldn't want to use on myself. For some, it comes and goes as if those particular moments were the most sharp pain of all. For others, it is a dull ache that never leaves, a constant reminder.
They say its a sense of you, as a human being, is lacking something in life. That sounds ridiculous, we're all lacking something all the time, otherwise why would we bother to do anything. I can't say I know what it is, I can't argue between some chemical imbalance or just a spiritualistic fluctuation in your own energy. So why, if I know nothing of all of this, could I ever admit to depression? I would rather not, I would then just have an excuse for feeling certain ways, although depression runs in my family, I do not want to be so self pitying as to say "I'm misunderstood, I'm depressed, my life is full of dissatisfaction" Even if it was true, I wouldn't admit to it. Right now, my life doesn't really lack anything. I have had a happy childhood, a protective (a little over-protective but I believe it turned out for the positive making me want to strive for more independence) and loving family of a mother, father and sister. We eat good and live in a big house. My parents are still together, and pretty much the average happy but long marriage couple. I do not have any learning dissabilities, and am quite adaptable to new situations. I grew up in an alternative school style and still am, most people I meet like me and want to be my friend, but I never feel close to really anyone. I have a couple close knitted friends, and some real freaking awesome people in my life. Yet, through everything, ever since I was little there has been something following me, I would be brought to my knees shaken with sadness, and I never understood why. I liked to pretend that it was someone elses sadness leaking through me, because I had no other excuse.