Drowning

Depression seems to hit me ever so often nowadays. Is it normal? Yes? No? Maybe. Have I always been that negative my entire life?

Looking at myself, I can't help but detest whatever I see. Looks, character - imperfections. I don't know what to feel anymore. Never was as eloquent as others, never as talented, never as beautiful. Perhaps the potential was there. But then again, all it was was purely potential. A facade covering the innate lack of substantiation of the claim. It is purely the should haves, and the what ifs, nothing more, nothing less. Potential. And I'd like to think that I did indeed have much potential, although ultimately, it remained as potential, a goal close to, but never met.

There it leaves me, there but not there. And sometimes to think of it, this is the worst position to be in, because potential builds up all your hopes, only for it to come crashing down on you like a torrential rainstorm. Average, or maybe less than average. I just hope that one day things will change for the better, or maybe I'll just come to terms with what I am born with.

The end is near + irrelevant thought no. 189230934

It's close to 2 more months to D-Day. 50+ more days to the start of the month of November, the climax of our education to this date. Pressure cumulates at this peak, but we can't let it bring us down. Right now, I have no idea where I stand on my journey. Am I backsliding? Or am I keeping pace, or perhaps slowing down? Scrolling endless pages of tumblr do not seem to be a good sign. Either way, I can't burn out this time. At the very least, I'm still standing, still going. Breakdowns have been often, and looking back, I see myself as someone I don't really know. Someone who holds a certain raw emotion, lacking control. At the end of the day, I always say I'm fine. I'm fine enough, at the very least. I'm fine, just not happy. And at times, the saddest thing you can hear someone say is that they are used to it. Used to feeling like there is no hope,  no way out. The immense feeling of hopelessness and worthlessness that renders you stripped down to the smallest being, if that even makes sense. After all, comparisons are easily done, once you've had a taste of perfection. The taste of being at the top of the world the peak above everyone else. But that just only renders you even more vulnerable to the depths of failure. The higher you are, the harder you fall. We are all always afraid of not being enough, not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough. Sometimes, I don't think people love me. They love versions of me I have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. The easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love. The times where I'm supposedly funny, or generous, or happily positive and helpful. Not the times, when I'm angsty and depressed.

But ultimately, you're alive only once, as far as we know, and what could be worse than getting to the end of your life and realising you had not lived it? Life is never perfect for anyone. Face it, that's just how God planned it to be. If you had everything, you would not appreciate it. At the end of the day, nobody will protect you from your suffering. You can't cry it away or eat it away or starve it away or walk it away or punch it away or even therapy it away. Nobody will come bursting into your room and cuddle your worries away. It's just there, and you have to survive it. You have to endure it, most probably by yourself. You have to live through it and love it and move on and be better for it and run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal. That's the only way out of the darkness created by the very victims of it - ourselves.

Thus, if any of you ever come across someone, never judge. Everyone has their own story behind the facades we build to deceive the world. Let's just admit that, everyone has facades. It's just a matter of how thick or thin one's facade is. No one wants to show the suffering, the demons inside us. And that is why the quiet ones always intrigue me. I am drawn to silence. It is because I know that, like me, there's a world inside their souls. If only someone cared to knock on the door.  

And one more thing to note, when someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.