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Mindy
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w6.28.2003


I haven't been feeling very happy lately. It seems like I'm always on the verge of tears. I don't know why I feel like crying, but sometimes I feel that if anyone speaks to me or looks at me too closely, the tears will fly out of my eyes and the sobs will fly out of my throat and I'll cry for a week. I can feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

The day I came home from Texas, a wave of depression settled over me. I felt more confused and worried than I have ever felt in my entire life, yet I was unable to pinpoint the exact cause of such feelings. It was frightening. Even though I was glad to be home, I still felt odd. I thought about how glorious it would feel to simply sleep the rest of the month away. I felt nauseous. A dismal sense of despair was churning in my stomach and burning the back of my throat as it tried to force its way out.

I'm scared that I might be clinically depressed because I hardly have reason to feel unhappy with my life. I graduated from high school early and started college at age 16. I have earned straight As my entire life. I have a wonderful boyfriend who loves me. I live in a nice, safe town in a beautiful apartment. I have my own car. I don't have a curfew. My parents are proud of me.

Still, there's something that is keeping me from feeling fully content with myself and with my life. It's not something I fully understand at this point, but I know it's there. I can sense it. Some days I have to literally force myself to get out of bed in the morning. I am restless. I can't stay inside, but at the same time, I dread going out. I don't like to associate with people in public situations, however, I know that if I spend all day inside, I will go mad.

I struggle to make it through the day without crying. I used to never be the type of person to show much emotion. It used to take a lot to make me cry. Lately, though, the tears are always much closer to the surface. A single thought or spoken phrase can easily create the lump in my throat which tells me that I'm on the verge of a breakdown. I cry when I think of the past...when I think of the future...and when I think about things right now, as they are. A few nights ago, I cried until the tears wouldn't come anymore. I remained in bed for quite some time, just crying. Violent sobs that shook my entire body escaped my throat and hung in the air like a violently disembodied spirit. It didn't feel good to get it all out. I wanted to stop, but couldn't. I held my head in my hands, shuddering, my face burning with hot tears, and I cried. I cried for myself, for all the things I am, but mostly for all the things I am not. I cried because I have no direction, no purpose, and no plan. I cried because I don't know where I'm at, nor do I know where I'm going or where I'll ultimately end up. I cried because every night it gets harder and harder to close my eyes and go to sleep, knowing I'm going to wake up in the morning and hate myself just a little bit more than yesterday.

And lately, I've begun to laugh. I suppose it's one way I deal with the confusion I've been feeling; it's a defense mechanism. When I reach my breaking point, I either laugh or cry. Frankly, the laughter is far worse because when I laugh, I'm going through all of the emotions that go along with crying...but there are no tears. For this reason, I'm sure it must cause some people to color me insane. Often times, the shallow, frenzied laughter spills forth uncontrollably like water out of a dam and it's truly frightening because it doesn't sound the noises are coming from me. These laughs are torn from my throat and I don't recognize them. The laughter is painful and psychotic and I want to stop, but I can't. In fact, I dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter in front of my boyfriend the other night. I hope I never have to see such a painfully perplexed look on his face again as long as I live.

Sometimes it feels as though a strong hand is gripping my insides, wrenching my guts, wringing my heart like a wet towel, and squeezing my lungs so that I can hardly stand to breathe.

Perhaps it has something to do with my self-image. Maybe I'm not depressed at all, in the true medical sense. Maybe I'm just utterly disgusted with me...with how I look. Feelings of worthlessness, sadness, and most of all, self-hatred, constantly gnaw at my insides. I wear my makeup too thick and dark in hopes of hiding my countless flaws from the world. Every single night, right before I wash my face, I stand in front of the mirror, wishing I didn't have to take my makeup off. Wishing I didn't have to see what's really underneath it all. Wishing that I could keep that mask on forever, so I'd never have to be just plain, less-than-average Markelle again. I want to fool the world into believing that maybe I'm not hideous....that maybe I'm someone worth admiring. Someone worth liking. Someone worth loving.

Bottom line is, I don't feel like myself. The smallest things manage to irritate me and I'm frequently agitated. I've been experiencing excessive amounts of guilt...guilt that is often times very inappropriate and entirely illogical. I just can't seem to stop worrying. I struggle to make even the smallest of decisions.

But by far the worst change that I've noticed in myself is this: I'm entirely apathetic about things that I used to feel so strongly about. The beautiful things in life that used to fill my veins with inspiration now fail to spark my interest on even a very remote scale.

I'm scared.

M. fucked with your mind @ 5:16 PM