this letter is for the eyes of whoever comes across it:
i have a decent life. i have a roof over my head, a family that loves & supports me, friends who look out for me, a job that allows me to save, hobbies i'm free to explore. i have my freedom.
when i'm actively doing these things, when i'm with my family or friends or working on a passion project of mine or indulging in things that bring me joy, i am otherwise O.K.. i mean, i may not be the happiest person in the world, and in most cases, there is a level of sadness behind my smile, but i survive.
however,
every second i have to myself is filled with dissatisfaction. the moment i'm by myself, i'm reminded of how unhappy i am. unhappy in my own skin, my head, my life. this feeling is something i'm unable to escape or put to rest. it's something i fear i'll suffer from for the rest of my life, no matter how this all turns out.
i'm never quite able to be here. there's a part of me that resides elsewhere at all times. where i do not know. i do know that as a result of being there comes a level of pain from being here. it does hurt being on my own. i don't like the feeling i get when i think to myself.
no matter whom i'm with, where i am, what i'm doing, i'm sad. it's a different kind of sadness. the best way i could describe it is the feeling of your body shutting down completely. falling down and not getting back up. the edge of failure.
i wish i could be optimistic more often. it's a fleeting feeling for me, and it kills me that it is. i wish i could be different. i know i can, but i think i won't.
i don't know.
