I have realized that this entire time I have been feeling “happy” I have just been wearing a mask. A mask that has done it’s job so well it even convinced me. And it is so-fucking-exhausting! The past, maybe, two years I have successfully convinced myself and those around me that I am happy, I am confident, I don’t let things get to me, and that I am a fun guy. Truth is I fucking hate myself and I am ridiculously lonely. It is exhausting because I have created this expectation for myself and when I can’t meet them I am “being weird.” And I appreciate the fact that some of them actually care to help me, but I have never been one to reach out. At least not personally. I have been conditioned by those closest to me to bottle this shit up. But when they wonder why I sleep in my room all day or don’t really socialize as much as I “should,” all they want to do is fucking criticize me.
At this point, I have also convinced myself that I do not want to kill myself. I guess that is fair? But what I don’t think is fair is that I have to meet these expectations. These fucking expectations of me being happy and social. Being motivated and ambitious. But it is not that way. And I can’t tell you this because it is like you don’t believe depression is even a fucking thing. Or maybe you just won’t accept that, yes, someone in your family is depressed.