February Thoughts

It’s kind of funny, the times I want to write. It’s when I’m sad and hopeless that I write the most beautifully. It’s when I’m angry and bitter that I write about things the way they are. I never compose pretty things whenever I’m happy. I never turn to the notebook or the keyboard whenever I have a smile on my face. It’s always when I’m hurting the most that the world becomes a place worth writing about. 

I’m hating myself, and everyone else too. I hate how I can’t look pretty. I hate how everyone else can. I can’t even seem to look normal. I just look bad. I hate how everyone else is happy. I hate how I get so irritated. I hate how pointless everything seems. I don’t want to do anything anymore. It’s all so purposeless. It’s all so purposeless. I don’t want to listen to people talk anymore. Their words mean nothing. I don’t want to work anymore. It results to nothing. I want to sleep, to get everything else to go away. I don’t want to dream; I want it to be a dreamless sleep, where everything is black and nothing exists. 

Your perspective on life changes whenever you don’t sleep for more than two nights. Everyone else becomes someone to envy, no matter what their life is like. You envy their skin, how smooth it is; how undamaged it must be; how thick the skin under their eyes is; how full of color it is; how you can’t even see the veins or even a hint of purple. You envy their problems; how small they are compared to yours. Every time they complain, you just want to say, “I wish that was the only thing I was worrying about.” You envy their lives, how stable they must be; how happy they must feel, devoid of the stress that you face; how full they must feel, energy and food filling them. You become someone for yourself to pity. When you look in the mirror, you see a mess of a person. Their hair, so unhealthy and messed up. Their skin, so gross and thin and uncared for. Their body, so weak and in need of recovery. Their eyes, so red and veiny. You look at this person and wonder how you ever ended up this way. Was it the stress that did this to you? Was it God, taking things away from you to test you? Was it something else that you’re unaware of? You look for answers desperately, trying to find a way to get out of the pit you’re in. You tell people your problems, hoping they’ll find a way to get you back to normal again. You beg God to stop doing this to you. You look on the internet for ways to get yourself to sleep at night. But no person’s advice can get your brain to relax. No sleeping tea, no medicine, no breathing exercise can knock you out. You spend the day wondering if you’ll be able to sleep at night; hoping that you will; praying that you will. You spend the night wondering why you can’t. The cycle goes on and on. You talk to many different people about what you’re going through, and they all seem so desperate to help. You know you need to get better for them, and for yourself. But how do you get better? What will make you sleep at night? Is there no solution to your problem? Will you stay this way forever? Will the cycle keep going?