Everyone who truly knows me has at one point or another told me how strong I am, how I inspire them, or how brave I am… but the truth is, I am barely holding on. Every single day is a struggle. Every. Single. Day.
Chasing money and moments that aren’t completely lonely and futile. Being criticized for everything I do that even remotely makes me happy. Being looked upon as irresponsible, lazy, and incompetent for not doing things exactly how everyone says I should. Feeling like I’m always in the way and everyone would be happier if I just didn’t exist. Being called selfish whenever I finally take a moment to do something that makes my own life easier or more comfortable, instead of constantly shrinking for everyone else’s comfort. Being disregarded. Destroying myself whenever I make a mistake. Feeling sad almost all the time for no apparent reason other than the fact that I have to do it all again tomorrow. Feeling empty. Constantly searching for a reason to continue. Feeling as if I am standing in the middle of a crowded room and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs but nobody even looks up. Eating to feel anything other than emptiness. Watching hours of television to stop my brain from feeling like it’s eating itself. Writing to dull the existential angst.
You don’t have any real problems. It’s not that bad. You’re life isn’t really hard. You aren’t really struggling. Get over it. Stop complaining. Look how good you’ve got it. There are people who have it worse. Grow up. Everybody has problems. You’re not special.
I keep going for one simple reason: I hope that it will get better. But this has honestly been my life for as long as I can remember. When does it get better? Why do you keep going?