Echoe of My Former Self

I don't understand. I don't know if I'd want to, either. It's not
my feverish nightmares, and it's not that I fall to pieces
every other day, crying. It is, I think, simply the fact that I don't
know why it happens. Why it's plaguing me so. What do you do when
a single event makes you question everything you held for sure in
life? If suddenly you're brutally thrown into a post-revisionist
nightmare, where you stare yourself blind on "what if"-s and
"if only"-s. What you used to value in life has gone unimportant,
and all that matters is to find out whether this given something
ever would have worked. Or if it ever will.
One of the reasons I hate myself for thinking about it is that, I
have everything I should ever want or need. I go to school and
like it there. I got a very supportive family and friends worth of
gold. I spend every day in the shade of my angel's wings... I love
him beyond compare...
So why do I ponder?
I just wanna know if this is what everyone goes through, like.
I don't think this is what people do, or how people feel. Sure
it might just be me thinking I'm the only one having this
problem. Or, and I'm almost starting to believe it, I actually
am. I'm sick and tired of feeling down all the time. And if I
can't figure out why it's like that, I won't ever be able to
fix it, either.

You know, the other day when I was reading about birth
control pills, it said somewhere the hormonal pills should
not be given to women who are depressed. And I'm thinking,
gee, maybe that's what it is for me. So far I've been thinking
that the pills are causing the instability of my body and my
temper, while in fact they might just be worsening a condition
that existed long before I even started taking them. It's hard,
you know, I can't blame the midwife for prescripting them to
me - she didn't know I felt so down, no one does, no one except
a very well selected few, like. And I didn't know it would harm
me to get the prescription if I did feel down, so I didn't tell her,
and she didn't ask! Aint that a vicious circle or what.

I read through some old diaries a couple of days ago, and that's
when it struck me. I thought I cried all the time just for now. That
it's due to so many things going on around me, this very instant.
But what does my diaries tell me?

"The tears come to me every day on the bus home. I'd rather let
it out there than at home. Don't want any questions."

"I'm feeling down today. Dunno why. Just feel like curling up in
a corner to cry."

"I've had nightmares every night for two months now. I avoid
going to bed cause I'm afraid to fall asleep, and let the dreams in
again."

And this way it goes. Sure you might wanna note that I mostly
produce writing only when things are rough. But in that case I'd
say I've had a few pretty rough years. One day at a time is how
I get by. Just wish I could say, or understand why.

Sometimes I think it might help me to go talk to someone, like,
an outsider, someone who doesn't know me or anyone that I know.
Isn't it horrible that you find that you can't be completely honest to anyone? Anyone at all? You tell them many things, but never everything.
To protect them, or protect yourself. If you spoke to a
professional, you'd know they can't spread your word on, and so
you could say anything without worrying that sometime it'll
come back to harm you. It's kinda like my sister says, that
everyone needs to just spit things out once in a while. Why not
in therapy?
On the other hand, a lot of what you do yourself is in fact
therapy. It's therapy to talk to your friends and get advise,
or to lie beside your boyfriend knowing he'll keep you safe,
or doing what I'm doing this moment: pouring my thoughts out
in writing. Poems or diaries or whatever. Therapy just the same.
I've heard that to be a great writer, it don't matter how much
you produce for others' sake, like poems or novels, but just to
keep your language running, and that keeping your diary up,
even if you don't think you got anything to write - is one im-
portant way of doing that. That has really sunk in to me. So
I always try to keep it up. On the web or in my physical red
little diary. Doesn't matter. Even if what you would put on
either place will differ slightly.

Since I still got the flu - wihooo! - I better cut out this crap
writing and get to the business of getting healthy again. I'm
gonna have me one of those delicious vitamin drinks. That was
irony. And then I'm going to bed... Again...

Last note, then I promise I'll be done. Friends, I love you,
with all my heart. It's so moving to see how much you care
for little me. I would walk in darkness without you, and you're
what I live for, above all else.

Night. No bed bugs allright.