#thatsinsane

I won. I fighted depression and I won. After the terapist, after all, I won. I say that I’m fine. I’ve got one billion problems and I’m fine. And I’m strong. But I can’t handle this anymore, I pretended to be fine for so much time and now that I am, I can’t handle this. I’m not happy, I tell myself that I’m happy but I’m not. I’m fine, just fine. I’m okay. I smile, I laugh and I’m okay. I can’t cry, I just can’t. Every single bad feeling, I kill it. I throw it in the water of my soul. Every moment that I feel sad, I just smile and say that I’m happy, but I’m not. There’s something wrong with me, there must be something wrong! I’m so empty, all the time, I smile and I’m fine, but what the hell is wrong with me? I’m never happy, I just have this feeling in my chest that hurts, it hurts so much. But I won against depression, I won against sadness. But it still hurts.