I tried to think of some interesting story or poem that reflects how I’m feeling right now. Last week I managed to do that, a bit, and I do have stories in my head… But some way, somehow, they’re not ready to be told. And I think it’s important to remember that sometimes, pain simply does not translate into art. Sometimes it’s just pain.

I need to… choose my words carefully here. I need to be both open with myself and what I’m going through without giving too much away and creating consequences for the things I say. Right now, that’s a fine line. Maybe there’s no overlap at all.

Last week, for seemingly no reason at all, was one of the hardest weeks I’ve gone through in a long time. Perhaps the hardest. All other periods of grief and struggle were knowable, and I faced them all knowing that those storms would pass.

But last week, I experienced a new emotion. That feeling scared me, and yet it drew me in. All I can be sure of is that, though I’m not sad per se, my mental health is very likely at the lowest point it has ever been in my entire life.

Depression is a difficult thing. I thought I was depressed in high school, and maybe I was, but I think part of it was me wanting to feel as sad as everyone else was (well, one person) so that I could feel a real emotional connection for once.

I made a post about a month or two ago talking about how I don’t feel loved and that praise is the closest thing I can receive to affection. I’ve recently discovered that this is pretty much because “Words of Affirmation” is the lowest on the bar of love languages for me. It’s so easy for me to get people to tell me they love me, or that I’m smart, or funny, you name it. It’s practically trivial, which makes words mean nothing to me.

Oh, the irony…

I’m being pulled down, and, I think it’s safe to say I’m actively drowning. If you had asked me a couple months ago about my mental state, I would have told you I was one bad day from a mental breakdown. Dropping all my classes, quitting my job, and starting an impromptu roadtrip with me, myself, and I. But now… I don’t even care to do that anymore. I don’t need a bad day to trigger anything, because for me, as I’m living right now, every day is a bad day. Even the good ones.

I know I need help, but I am not willing to put hundreds of dollars a month away to seek it. And I’m not willing to go to friends or family because I will only hear the same words I always hear, and I can’t bear to have another meaningless conversation that makes me sink even deeper. My instinct is to reach out to new people, but I’ve done that in the past. Not only does it not help, but it’s not fair to them and not healthy to me or our relationship.

Part of me hopes nobody reads this. I’m only posting it here I have nothing else to say on this blog, and I want to try to keep posting every Tuesday despite it all. I know how much it probably hurts to hear if you are friends or family. I would have put this at the top, but we all know how well “Don’t read this” would have worked.

I don’t know how to end this post. I guess I’ll do it like this.