An Illogical Ideaology

For a while I’ve been feeling this emotion that I don’t have a word to explain. It’s not really sadness or depression, at least I don’t think it is, but it kind of feels that way. It builds up day after day until I feel this yawning chasm of emptiness in the center of my chest mixed with this underlying pain that you almost barely notice. I couldn’t even really get too excited when spring break rolled around because, other than the fact that I finally got a break from school, I couldn’t seem to outrun this feeling of emptiness. It stayed up late with me into the early morning and cuddled with me until the early afternoon almost every day while I was on spring break. Like a fluctuating bought of insomnia mixed with writers block and the inexplicable feeling you forgot to do something.

I find that I’ve been like this for a while now and I can’t seem to figure out just when I started feeling so empty. Was it freshman year? Middle school? Maybe even before that? I remember distinctly that I was a pathetic child in elementary school. I often pretended to be happy, pasting a smile on my face while I actually felt like crying. I guess I still do that now, especially with this emptiness gnawing on my sternum.

But it’s not like it’s there everyday. There are extremely good days when I can laugh and hang out with my friends, joke around with my family, or, like when I went to Florida, become too tired to actually bother feeling anything other than pure exhaustion. And then there are days where it’s very present. It will sit on my lap, wrap its icy hands around my neck and whisper insecurities into my ears. DOes that means I’m depressed? Is it okay to say I’m depressed? I don’t think I am, and I’m such a blessed person, I don’t know what about or why I would be depressed. I guess my sense of being a walking contradiction personality wise would play a bit of a role in me being depressed, but I also don’t want to claim I am depressed. How would I actually know if I am when I can still laugh and smile genuinely?

Honestly, I’m tired of feeling empty but I’m also too afraid to bring attention to it, too afraid to let go of this familiar sensation. And then I get to thinking that having it is okay, even if there are nights when I can’t sleep or I cry myself to sleep, as long as I can keep it wrapped around me like a shelter and I don’t have to worry about getting hurt from something or someone else.

Am I being delusional? Or perhaps my thought process is redundant and I’m actually pulling the wool over my own eyes? I don’t know… I Just know that it’s familiar: an old friend.

I wonder if I’ll ever get rid of it.


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