May 16, 2016

Today someone at work asked me “how are you?” and for a split second I contemplated actually telling her how I really was.

I’m going to go ahead and say what I’ve been too embarrassed to say: I’m unhappy. If you ask me how I’m doing, I’m not doing alright. And I absolutely hate it.

I hate that I rely so much on others for my happiness. That I, alone, can’t make myself happy. That the last time I can remember feeling happy was when I was in a relationship. Or at a time in my life where every day was filled with drinks by the pool or going to a show or hanging at a bar or just sitting around with the group. And now that I try to be alone and make myself happy and make myself find something within myself to feel whole, I find myself unhappy.

I hate that I don’t know what I want. I hate that I look to others to tell me what I should do. Or what I should want. I don’t know what I want for the next 6 months other than to not be dead. I don’t know what I want other than what show to binge or what villains I want to massacre.

But that’s got to be a part of the process, right? Like when they say: ‘You gotta know the lows so you can feel the highs’. Or whatever they say. I didn’t say it. Maybe this is just a slump. Maybe the ‘high’ is coming soon. Or maybe I do need people. Maybe it’s not a bad thing. Maybe I’ll figure out what I want. Maybe I already know what I want. Maybe I just need to do it. Do we ever become happy? Truly happy? Do we ever figure it out? Maybe I’m just overthinking this whole thing like I do with everything else. I don’t know.

There’s two things I do know:

  • Adulting is a life sucking goat whore.
  • I gotta figure this out before it gets the best of me.

Until next time,
— S



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