The Grey Sheep

I am neither a black or white sheep, in terms of how extreme a person I am.

White sheep are the normal people, who have their daily struggles but usually they come out on top. Some of them have a good life, some of them bad – but most have a life that they feel is fulfilling and meaningful – spouse, house, career, car, kids – it’s all been done before but doing it yourself feels so different. You make your own life and you are relatively content, maybe even happy. Maybe a few bad thoughts now and then, when it gets to the lowest point in ones life I’m willing to bet everyone has, at one point, wished they were dead. But the thought of suicide never haunts them, not really.

Black sheep are the ones who hate life. Who see it as an abysmal hell-hole with no way out. Some act out, become violent, get into drink and drugs, struggle with abuse, mental illness, bullying, crime – they might even go through the same things as the white sheep but… life is just… hard. Life is hard for the black sheep. But they do find other black sheep to get along with, most of the time, they find those people that don’t just sympathise but empathise because you find people that walk on the same path as you. Some black sheep get that blissful release from life, and others bravely soldier on, some struggling, some just coping, some even managing to thrive. Some showcase their pain and are able to get the help they need, others turn all offers of help down and just suffer until they die.

Then… then there are the grey sheep, like me. We believe we can lead normal lives – nothing really extreme has happened to us, maybe we got bullied a little bit, maybe we went through some shit but hey! Life ain’t easy, no one’s life is easy, we all got troubles… Blah. Blah. Blah. We hear it all the time, we aren’t special. The things we go through… other people have gone through and look how they turned out – fine, mostly. Why can’t you deal? Huh? What’s wrong. What’s wrong?
I don’t know. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I hate the voice, the mocking voice, that I have in my head asking me what’s wrong. The voice doesn’t even pretend to sound like it cares, it’s mocking me because I’m going through a bit of bad shit and I feel like… I can’t cope. And sometimes… I don’t even want to cope anymore. I just want to.. let go.

I’m essentially, a coward. I’m not extreme enough to go the distance and actively try and kill myself, and my self harm has been minimal. I’ve wanted to do so much more but I’ve always stopped myself. I don’t act out – I’m the good girl. I’m sitting on all this pain but… Something is holding me back from just letting all hell break loose and just… ending it.
But I’m not happy. I’m not a white sheep. I don’t follow the crowd, I don’t fit in, I’m just too dark. I don’t follow the trends of today, I do my own thing. I don’t… belong. I can be surrounded by friends, but… I’ll feel so goddamn alone. Like I’m just an invisible watcher, looking in and on their lives, not really… being there with them. I’m not included, even though they aren’t doing anything wrong – they aren’t trying to exclude me but I just feel that way.
There are so just many shades of grey it’s so difficult to find someone like yourself. Maybe that makes us unique. But… I’m just lonely. And sometimes it feels like no matter how much company I have, no matter how my friends I have caring about me, the feeling of being left outside won’t stop. The thought of wanting to die doesn’t end. And this grey sheep doesn’t know why.