“Just find what makes you happy and focus on that.”
BUT THERE’S NOTHING. NOTHING. Sure, I smile in the little moments, there are some good times, but there’s no one thing I can grasp onto and hold. Things that make me happy one minute destroy me the next. My passions have become my greatest sources of stress. My rare smiles have become guilty pleasures brought on by transient things I can’t hold on to or replicate. Because it’s internal, not external – it’s not what outside that affects me, it’s what inside that’s devouring me. When the monster on the inside takes a break, I can enjoy whatever is around me, but no external factors influence that.
“Don’t worry, it will get better.”
Oh really? Because it was supposed to get better two months ago. It’s only gotten worse. And will continue to do so. Hell, I even used to tell myself this, so I don’t need you to. Go away
“But there’s nothing to feel this way about.”
Yes, you’re right, and that’s what fucks me up, because I would actually really like to find the source of whatever the hell this is because even if I couldn’t fix it I could at least understand. But you’re right, there isn’t anything, so I now feel like there is something doubly wrong with me, and I am making up problems for myself. Thank you for that.