I wonder if I’ll ever be normal. If I’ll ever be able to wake up happy, and text my friends good morning. If I’ll ever be able to eat dinner with my family and laugh about good times. If I’ll ever be able to date and cuddle with someone I’ll hardly know. If I’ll ever call someone just to talk about people we know. If I’ll ever be able to spend an evening watching Disney movies and eating chips out the bag. Was that even normal? Anything that I wasn’t felt normal at this point. Everything I touched seemed to fade to weirdness, and I couldn’t even impress myself. I woke up dreary and hopeless. My life felt like the same old routine that was too complex for my own good. I felt like I was watching a movie, or a charade of normal people, living in normality, breathing normal air, tasking normal things and worrying about normal problems- and I so badly wanted to be a part.
It was obvious we all wanted something that we didn’t already have, but I felt as if I just wanted normal. No questions, no fear – just living. Day to day. No routine, no ghosts, no plastic bags and no walking minds. Time slotted minutes for each of us to fill with whatever we wanted… So why was everything so similar? It’s like I’m watching a movie that I didn’t even want to see- pretending to enjoy it because I paid for it. Trying to get my money worth. Making loans of happiness with fees I can’t afford and debts that haunt my dreams.
Why is it that we don’t understand mental illnesses?
Sometimes my fate felt like a stick of dynamite given to me by an enemy. Being afraid of the psychoanalysis of a mental illness has been prevalent in society since- well forever. Having people understand mental illnesses sometimes is like staring into a gorge, and all it does is stare right back at you. Could it be that accepting mental illnesses in the first place was society’s first problem? Nietzsche himself promoted nothingness and pessimists, and we all applauded it. He also died of insanity, but allowed all of us to live through his legacy.
Being a teenage girl seems to be the saddest thing in the world. We can’t even say we are feeling sad without being called a drama queen or an attention seeker. Our “depression” or “angst” never seems to be taken all that seriously, and is often titled as just a phase. People are so open about mental illnesses online and anonymous per say, but are also so good at hiding it in everyday life. Sadness is hard to talk about, but statistics show that everyone feels it. Coping mechanisms seem to dwindle with fitting into the normality. No one wants to admit their illness because it defers them from everyone else. Nothing feels worse than being told that you and you’re problems are both not good enough. It’s bad enough young females struggle so much to be accepted physically, but psychologically teenage girls are forced to persevere through the darkest times- because the pain is so misunderstood.
It’s hard to believe that the world is so dark if it is lead by such light. It’s hard to believe something could love a terrorist the same way they love a child. It’s hard but that’s what makes it real. Having your faith- only to seek the love that is reassured and given to everyone. All people loved the same and given a chance, it’s so simple but so twisted into nothing. Religion is nothing to people because nothing is their something. Nothing is the money, the cars, the business meetings and office jobs. Nothing is the TV, the magazines and the media. Nothing is inescapable but love is. Don’t escape it when it is all you can afford. Choose love or understanding over the same-valued- nothing that creates podiums everyday. Competing isn’t love or caring yet it’s all we do. Believe in someone else for a change. Your fate is better taken after in someone else’s hands.
All in all, the sadness may never be cured. I may suffer from my fever until I am 109 years old. Shaming someone for their feelings is horrifically cruel, and feels even worse when it’s you… and you have no one but yourself to care about how you feel. Open up if you are suffering from the fever. If someone opens up to you about how they feel- don’t make it worse for him or her. It’s that simple.
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