are you happy?

i have not posted in here in a while, sorry. i was kind of in a creative drought. these last few months have really taken a toll on me so i wasn’t posting because i wanted to avoid thinking about what’s going on. haha.

i was talking to my father on the way home from rehearsal for a musical i was in and i was having a genuinely good time. like, making conversation with someone was making me happy, which is a rarity because i have a solid one person in my life who makes me happy. two now, i guess. i love my father, i always have. despite the extreme difference in our political views, i think he does an incredible job at being a dad. he and i struggle with the same mental health issues, so we understand each other better than anyone else understands us.

anyway, back to being genuinely happy. when you’re sad all the time, you don’t think much about anything other than the fact that you’re sad all the time. it sucks, like, a lot. being sad all the time, though, has a plus. when you’re happy, you feel it everywhere and it is an extraordinary feeling. you appreciate being happy so much more when you’re depressed. many people take their happiness for granted, but not people like me. people like me savor those moments of positivity.

i just really love enjoying my life. and don’t be like, “no shit you love enjoying your life, everyone does,” but you don’t understand! i don’t enjoy most of my life, but when i have little conversations with my dad about how cute my dog is, or when i get home and i’m able to climb into bed without any detours just because there’s nothing else i need to do (something that i almost always need to do), i love those moments. the mundane things that i used to think were boring are now the best parts of my life.

i’m trying to acknowledge my emotions more, so i am writing this.

i have never once been neutral, emotion wise. i experience extreme highs and extreme lows, nothing in between. i spend most of my life in an extreme state of sadness with only short commercial breaks of happiness (i stole the idea of “commercial breaks” from somewhere, but i’m not sure where. it is not mine.) when i am happy though, like i am tonight, i am unhealthily happy.

right now, i feel invincible. i feel as though i can get shot through the heart and still survive, continuing my day without a scratch. my mind and i are moving at a mile a minute. rushes of inspiration are crashing over me, similar to an avalanche or tsunami. i am moving like an insane person, going from cleaning my room to reorganizing my bookshelves to jotting down paragraphs that make sense to me now but i know that, when i wake up tomorrow morning, they will be illegible. it feels like a sugar high, but i know this better than a sugar high, it’s an emotional high.

i will crash soon, i don't know when. it could be minutes or hours, but soon enough i will fall back into the pit of darkness that i spend most of my time in. i’m relatively used to the pit, i like it there. it’s a type of horrible normalcy, but i know that since i’ve been in this state of extreme happiness for an hour at least, the dark will not feel like a home to me, as i have gotten used to the light. so i will fall and fall and fall and land, only this time the pit will seem deeper, darker, and it will be hard to adjust to. at least i know it will happen this time, i’ve experienced these waves of emotion enough so that i know what to expect, but i know that preparing for this pitfall will not at all help my recovery.

trigger warning: depression, suicide

i just found my favorite notebook of all time. the outside of the notebook is nothing spectacular: it’s a Mead Cambridge. a black, spiral notebook, which i loved dearly and carried for months. as i was flipping through it i found a lot. i found poems that i had either printed out and tucked in between the pages or copied down, because i thought my handwriting was prettier than any font. i still do. i found floor-plans of the bookstore/coffeeshop i wanted to own. i still want it. the most peculiar things i found written in this notebook, though, were all written on the same date: June 15th, 2015.

i think this was the day that i finally cracked. i don’t know what it was, but there are pages and pages of stuff from this day. on one page, i mapped out my entire house and wrote numbers in every place something bad has happened to me and then i would write what happened at these locations in a “key” below the map. taking up five pages i have the same two paragraphs written over and over again. the paragraphs were taken from a novel i started writing but never finished. there’s a page that features seven different versions of the same flower, with each drawing the flower dies more and more. there is an empty patch of grass on the seventh picture. i wrote an entire essay about my favorite book and how it changed my life.

there was one that really touched me, though. it was me writing about the time i realized i was going to die. i was in second grade and i had just watched a horrible movie about aliens or something when it hit me: my life wasn’t gonna be my life forever. i realized things would change, and continue to change throughout my life, until everything just stops. in it though, i do not end it after the event ended (crying myself to sleep in my mothers arms while she tried desperately to calm me down), but i instead go on. i talk about how i think about death today (and by today i mean 6-15-2015). and the way i wrote about it, you could’ve said with complete confidence that it was a suicide note. i’m not talking about this because i want attention, i’m talking about this because i am amazed at how far i’ve come since i wrote this. today, when i look at my life, it looks like a living hell, but back then it was far worse. at the time that i had written this, i sincerely believed that i was going to die within the month, and i had accepted it. i wrote about how death is something that i was ready for and accepting of. in my mind, i had no reason for me to stay.

do i still think about my life that way? absolutely, but, as of recently, i’ve realistically imagined a future for myself, which is something i’ve never done before. i’ve toured colleges and worried about my grades, which blows my mind. prior to three months ago, i didn’t have anything to look forward to. death was something that i thought about in present tense, but you know what? i do not see myself dying anytime soon, thank God.

to end this, i will quote my favorite slam poet, camp counselor, and friend, “i saw the future, i did, and in it, i was alive.”

everyone is welcome to disagree with me. don’t let my beliefs influence yours.

i am not at all religious. in fact, i am the opposite of religious. it’s called “a gnostic atheist” when you reject all forms of religion and disagree with the idea of God/a god’s existence. that is what i am.

i have played with the idea of my faith for as long as i can remember. even in elementary school i had this inkling that God wasn't real, but that did not stop me from practicing religion, because i knew the beliefs that were practiced in Lutheranism (which is what my family is), are good beliefs, and if you can live by those rules you’re doing an alright job. i started calling myself an agnostic in sixth grade, because by then i was definitely a skeptic. i never openly called myself an atheist, and i don't think i ever will. i don’t typically enjoy voicing my opinions on religious or political matters. i know for both topics my opinions are extreme and i hate arguments, so i don’t talk about anything.

anyway, although my beliefs reject all religion (sorry), i still think religion is something that is extraordinarily important. since the beginning of the homo-sapiens, religion has been practiced, and there’s obviously a reason for that. at first it was to explain the unexplainable, but now it is more than that. many people act the way they do because their religion told them not to something. theism has shaped today’s culture in so many ways. even disbelievers have to acknowledge that.

it is often recognized that many hate groups use religion as validation for their actions, which is awful and a topic i will not even come close to discussing. too may people are discussing it already. i think that religion provides a lot of good for the world and people often don’t realize that. i know so many people who go on mission trips through their church and volunteer in places such as Haiti, helping them and spreading messages of hope.

people who hate others for their policies on religion upset me. it is so important to see other peoples’ beliefs and recognize that they’re different than yours and then go on to have a healthy conversation about it.

taken from my journal, word for word.

am i in a bunch of one sided relationships? silly question that i can figure out on my own but it’s hard to articulate my thoughts when they’re exclusively in my head.

basically, i feel like i am in no mutually beneficial relationships and i feel so horrible about that. i know for a fact that i am in a bunch of unhealthy relationships that i either get nothing out of or affect me in a negative way. that doesn’t really bother me that much. as long as my presence does good for someone, i don’t mind getting nothing from that relationship and for the most part i don’t mind being negatively affected by it.

what really concerns me is the opposite. i feel like i am in a few friendships that only benefit me and that makes me upset. i don’t ever want to hurt or annoy anyone, but i feel like whenever i’m myself around people, all i am is annoying. Not my usual “annoying,” though (the one where i make stupid jokes and laugh at everything), the annoying where maybe i overshare or maybe i talk too much or maybe i’m too unsure or maybe i’m too self conscious. i just feel awful. i hope that what i say doesn’t piss people off because i work very hard to be nice to everyone and good to people who deserve it, and i think i am, but i’m wondering if that’s not enough.

i am terrified that all the friendships i have that i think are good and heathy are just people who don’t actually enjoy my company, they pity me and that’s it.

i grew up insecure and i worked very hard not to show it. i developed this sense of humor that was uncontrollable. it was like i could never be serious. and when you’re never serious, you’re never vulnerable. my sense of humor was a shell protecting what is inside, which is something very dark, cloudy, and--frankly--disgusting.

i never made jokes at my own expense. i will never make jokes at my own expense. i am already self-depricating enough on the inside and i will not be that person. i don't know why, but people who outwardly express their self hatred piss me off. if it is a part of a private conversation that is serious and important, of course i want to hear your insecurities and make you feel validated, but using your flaws as a joke always upsets me. your weight is not funny. your grades are not funny. your acne is not funny. your sadness is not funny.

i focus so hard on not showing my emotions and being someone who is positive and happy and always put a smile on other people’s face. i’ve always tried to make jokes to make people feel better, but now that is an awful habit i’ve developed. i can't help people, and the thing is; i sympathize with people so much, but i am so bad at giving advice or voicing my sympathy and it makes me feel so awful. all i want to do is help, but my shitty version of comedy has taken over my life. i don’t know how to escape.

this last summer, i worked so hard to become someone different. someone who is intelligent, someone whose beliefs are solidified, someone who is more educated than everyone else. now i sincerely believe that i am more educated on what i think than most people, but no one else can see that. i am not a serious person. i am nice, i am funny, what i am not, to most people, is intelligent. people think and know i am smart, but when i say intelligent i don't mean that i am good at math, or i read a lot of books, i mean i know better than others. i am trapped in this hellish world where i am not taken seriously because i grew up the class clown.

i have a lot of friends. no, this is not me bragging. i just do. i am an extrovert who works overly hard to be nice to everyone, so it’s easy for me to become friends with people. what i don't have is a lot of close friends. yeah, i have a friend who i text more than anyone and hangout with every other day, but when we talk, i let her do the talking. when she’s upset, she comes to me. when i’m upset i stay silent.

it’s not that i don't trust her. of course i trust her, she’s my best friend, it’s just that i don't think if i told her what was on my mind i would get the response i want or need. when i do come to her with my problems, she finds a way to circle it back to herself and change the subject to something that’s important to her. i will not stop being friends with her over this, i love her and her company more than i love most things, but it feels very one sided. don’t get me wrong, i love listening, but i also love telling.

ninety-five percent of the time, i don’t tell anyone anything. i either don’t feel comfortable with the person, or i don’t think they would appreciate what i’m saying, but i really do enjoy that other five percent.

this is horrible, but i have one close friend. i have someone in my life who i would literally do anything for if they asked. i am so blessed to have someone in my life who i can tell anything to and they would tell me exactly what i want to hear. they know what to say when i don’t, and that’s extraordinary. i am so close with someone that i know if i spent the rest of my life blindfolded, as long as they were by my side guiding me, i would never be lead astray. that is an exuberayting feeling to have.

trigger warning: depression and self harm

i think i gave myself depression. from the summer of 2014 to the spring of 2015 i was working so hard for attention. i don’t know if it was me not getting the attention i craved that first made me sad or if it was me giving myself reasons to be sad so that i could talk about it on the internet. either way, it caused a huge plummet for me--emotionally and physically.

i already knew i had a mental illness. it wasn’t anything much, just ADHD, but nonetheless mental illness was already a prominent thing in my life. when my depression came about, though, everything changed. i love literature, i joke that it’s the only thing that keeps my sanity in tact and, while that may not be the case, it definitely helps me stay relatively level headed. i didn’t read anything but poorly written poetry found on Tumblr that i knew would bring out the worst of my emotions. somehow, i became the epitome of the “Me” generation. i would still endlessly tweet about whatever i was feeling, whether those feelings were real or fake. i uploaded selfies to the internet constantly, probably one every other day. i would tell people to favorite it because i needed that validation in my life. i needed to feel good about myself, and the only way i could was through the praise and pity of others. a few other things happened--things that i would not dare to talk about on the internet. all i wanted was to be loved. where this sudden desire for attention came from, i, to this day, still have no idea.

whatever happened during the 2014-2015 school year drastically impacted my life. i forced depression onto myself like an straight-jacket that i know i will never be able to escape from. this awful hole i fell into led me to develop some extraordinarily negative habits. i stopped doing my homework that year, i don't know why. my desire to do it went out the window. luckily for me, i was blessed with the skills that an excellent test taker has, so my grades went virtually unaffected. physically, though, i was suffering. i ate in spikes, for weeks i would go without eating, and then i would binge. it was this endless cycle that i thought would never end. the summer of 2015, i gained thirty-five pounds that i have yet to find a healthy way to lose. my weight, although one of my biggest insecurities, was not the main issue that i was facing. slashing my wrists became a routine, as regular as brushing my teeth twice a day. i remember Thanksgiving of 2014, i had harmed myself for the first time the night beforem so at dinner i was constantly pulling down my sleeves, petrified that my grandma or father would see the scabs on my wrists.

one of the first things i think of when i think of comedians is depression. it’s a sort of stigma–a stereotype–that comedians have. they use their comedy to repress what they’re really feeling. there’s no way i can call myself a comedian, but i use humor to mask my insecurities all the time. actually, most of the time.

bo burnham’s shows have always been different, though. he talks about his depression without seeming like he’s looking for attention. bo never refrains from mentioning his mental health. Words Words Words featured “ART IS DEAD” in which he talked about how all comedians and actors are attention seekers, including himself. then in what., his show ended with “We Think We Know You,” a number where he talked about how ever sense he acquired fame, people have approached him differently. he discussed people he went to high school with, and the way they treated him when he knew them and the way they referred to him after fame was on the opposite sides of the spectrum. now, in Make Happy, “Can’t Handle This” starts out like it will be another one of bo’s comedic bits, but halfway through the song it becomes obvious that this will be another songs discussing one of bo’s issues with himself, today’s culture, or any other existential issues that are bugging him. “Can’t Handle This” is mainly about how he tries so extraordinarily hard to please this audience he has, but he doesn’t feel as though he can, considering he cannot please himself.

i do not know if bo does this intentionally, but he never fails to send a message to people who watch his content. i do not claim to be an expert in comedy, yet i do know this: bo burnham has a chance at being the most influential comedian to ever break into the mainstream. he’s not trying to be relatable, he does not want to be relatable, and somehow bo is the comedian i relate to most. through voicing his opinions and telling his feelings, bo burnham has made an impact on so many lives. don’t get me wrong, i love other mainstream comics such as louis c. k. or aziz ansari, however, none have impacted me like bo.

i mentioned in the beginning that comedians repress their emotions when onstage, but bo does not. he doesn’t let the confines of social norms hold him back. through irony and self deprecation, he sends a message that no one else has the courage to send.

bo burnham is such an interesting person. i will support him as long as he continues in the direction that he is currently headed.

ART IS DEAD

We Think We Know You

Can’t Handle This