I didn’t want to have to try any harder to accept my problems, but since my boyfriend didn’t believe me, I had to argue what I already hate to be true. You’re provoked to defend something you already hate—something you already didn’t want to be thinking about. He doesn’t believe that mental health problems exist. Having to open my mouth to convince him that he’s wrong makes me cringe at myself, because who wants to say, “Yes, I am TOO depressed!†It’s embarrassing, and counteractive, and you sound like all the other idiots who think they know something about being sad. Sometimes people are just weak. I’m depressed, and I can’t sleep. I’m not always unhappy, but the times that I am, I don’t want to have to have a reason for being lifeless just so I don’t have to argue the fact that there is no reason. It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted.
I feel like a fool for even writing about it. It’s a first world problem, it seems like– except, it’s not. It just doesn’t even seem that important enough to mention. This is routine. Wake up, go to sleep when you finally actually can, and do some-fucking-thing that relates to this world in between. It doesn’t matter what it is–just have to be something, apparently. It’s not like I strive to be, but why can’t I just be a shitty person?
2 comments
I know how you feel :/ Well, not all the time, but still. And trust me, that’s better than having to argue with your boyfriend over who’s MORE depressed.
Neither of you can know who is more depressed, because one does not know how depressed he is. You’ll just keep thinking, “I swear, there can’t be a step below this.”