My eyes feel tired from crying, like I’ve been crying all afternoon. I haven’t. All I had was a meltdown.
If I could describe what I’ve been feeling lately in one word, it would be: dread.
In another word: empty.
In another: desperate.
They say on the good days, you’re supposed to feel like what you’re doing is right, like you can and will work hard to deserve the work you’re given, like this is where you’re meant to be. My good days are simply days I managed to survive through. My good day thoughts are, “One down. How many more do I have to go before I’m finally allowed to be selfish and do something for me?”
I told my best friend I didn’t know if it was work or depression. Maybe it was how they collided, how each one expected to be put leagues ahead of the other. If I give up work, my life loses its current structure and becomes heavier. If I pursue work more closely, I might decide I want nothing to do with my life.
I currently want nothing to do with my life.
I had a breakdown this morning. After I rose early and realized I wanted to escape this day, after hour after hour passed with me making excuses and dodging responsibilities, after the time had finally come that I was “too late” and no longer had an alibi to save my skin: I had a breakdown this morning.
My sister left the condominium and my soul went unbearably quiet to the world’s steel coldness. Music did not feel like anything to me. I returned to my bed and there: suddenly, the air around me thickened and felt like water I was drowning in. I was floating in a fishbowl and I couldn’t breathe. I was so scared of myself because in those moments I didn’t care about anything.
I didn’t care about my work, I didn’t care about what happened to me next, I didn’t care about whether I might just die in place or not. That amount of apathy was too much responsibility for me, that emptiness was too large and too dark. I was scared that I might trust it. I was scared that I was very close to that point where I couldn’t go on anymore. I was scared that that was it. I was giving up on myself.
I was absolutely terrified because I knew with every fiber of my pain that I was right: that was definitely what it felt like to almost give up on myself.
So I ran.