I’ve never been one to zone out but it’s the only thing that’s been getting me through these long and lonely days. Earbuds in all day with music going doesn’t make the days go by quite as fast as I wished they would. Is this what depression feels like?
I’ve always hated the word and the stigma that surrounds depression. I can’t stand the pity me bullshit blasted on social media. Everyone and their sister whining because of whatever crap happened to them this week. From baby daddy drama to no friends to being broke. It’s life, sweetie.
And now I’m here in this stupid spot of what the fuck am I feeling?
Call it ignorance but to those that go out seeking attention on social media (Facebook especially) looking for attention and people to feel bad for them; waiting for someone to just tell them that so and so is in the wrong, blah blah blah. I don’t buy it. I wouldn’t consider that depression. You’re just looking for attention.
Real depression. I know it’s sad and it’s personal. I feel like people who are truly depressed hold on to it as hard as they can. I feel like they keep it inside as long and as much as possible. How do I know that? Because I’m afraid that’s what’s happening to me.
I’m not suicidal. I don’t hate my life. I have a wonderful family. It’s none of that. Actually I talk about my feelings all the time. I vent to my mom, tell my boyfriend about my days, talk to our kitty, Frank. But this is something else. No matter how much I bitch or complain or look for the light at the end of the tunnel; I never find comfort.
It’s like a tired of everything feeling. I’m tired of work and the people at work. I’m tired of the small talk and the fakeness that everyone seems to carry so high in the air. I’m tired of driving and I’m tired of cooking supper. I’m tired of being the one that cares about everyone and the one that has it all together. I’m tired of having no friends and I’m tired of not wanting friends. I’m tired of how I look and my weight. I’m just exhausted. I want to stop everything. Stop working, stop paying bills, stop eating, stop talking. All I want to do is lay in bed and watch sad movies. I want to listen to music that makes me cry. All I want to do is for someone to hug me hard and tell me that it’ll be okay.
What will be okay? I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.