Waking up every morning is exhausting. I put my full effort into being happy and chugging through the day to day. Even to just be content would be nice.
It seems like a chore just to do the things that seem to come so easily to others. To shower and brush my teeth is more than I have the energy for some days.
It’s a good life that I live.
I’m able to pay my bills and keep a roof over my head. My body is capable and working. I have loved ones that, at the risk of sounding vain, adore me. That should be enough.
So why does every day feel so hard? Is it me? Do I live for the drama? Do I absolutely need the attention of being pitied in order to validate myself and my sorrow?
Maybe it’s the birth control. I’ve heard of them referred to as ‘depression pills’. I wonder if they do enough damage and cause enough mental chaos to make people question their existence constantly.
Or maybe, just maybe, I have made this all up. Maybe I have no real issues at all. Maybe I was so bored in my life that I decided to create this ‘woe is me’ narrative for myself. And now it’s out of control to the point that I can’t undo it.
But if that’s the case, if this is all just something I created, then why does existing every day feel so hard? Why does the internal struggle feel so real?
I wake up some days feeling hopeful and full of energy, knowing that even if I don’t have it figured out I do have a greater purpose. Something that I am working towards, whether I know it or not.
Lately those days are farther and fewer between.
It’s a good life that I live.
To wake up in the morning and want nothing to do with the events that await me. It is incomprehensible how exhausted I constantly feel. What would happen if I just went back to sleep and stayed that way for a while…?
Not knowing if these thoughts are valid or if I’m just painting myself as the victim to be pitied by others always adds a fun twist to my internal dialogue.
I never know if I’m being dramatic or just have that little control over my own brain. That’s how it feels, as if the two sides of my brain are fighting to see who wins while I sit and wait for the results. My rational side tells me shit ain’t that bad and I need to realize how good I have it. My feeling side knows that I feel how I feel, even if there isn’t a reason.
Plot twist: both sides have fucked up wiring. So my brain overloads. And she screams, and she wails, and she makes everything hurt both physically and mentally.
Neither side wins and the struggle continues.
Then I proceed to sit in my room. I cry until my head hurts. And I dread having to start tomorrow and do this all over again.
Every. Single. Day.
I isolate myself until I have the energy to come out of hiding. Until I have the energy to project that I am feeling okay.
I continue like this for days. Even when it’s not for me. I do it knowing that sometimes I am really just waking up for the people I love. To see them another day and hear about their lives.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about how peaceful it would be to go to sleep and stay there.
It’s a good life that I live.
Sam Pursues 