I don’t remember what it’s like to be happy. My friend who has been struggling with depression for the last few months went on antidepressants recently and she told me that she finally feels like herself again. I smiled and said that was great, but inwardly I was consumed with a deep realization, I don’t know what I feel like. I can’t remember the last time that I felt normal and healthy, so I don’t even know what it really feels like to “be Megan”.
No wonder I have become a difficult person to love. No wonder he needs space. No wonder I can’t figure out what I want to do with my life.
This is all my fault and I’m sick if pretending to be okay.
Because I’m not, I’m not okay.