Anxious and Sad

I feel like my anxiety has become a fashion trend for people who want to seem quirky or alternative. That my depression has become nothing more than a way for people to express their first world problems. They don't understand why I can't sleep, can't have a quiet moment, and why medication is so terrifying to the creative mind.

I want to be that brave girl who doesn't apologise for everything she thinks and says, and I want to be confident and strong but that's hard with an unkind inner monologue that won't shut off. I know I'm hard to deal with. I'm sorry. Old memories and people from my past are the things that kill me most, no, not because I miss them and love reminiscing in what was. It’s because they make me sick, I hate them, those people.

Sometimes I think if the people in my life knew all the scary things I think about they'd hate me. If they knew about the people who I let in and let abuse my body and mind, if they knew about the choices I made, or the things I didn't try hard enough to stop then they'd all leave and I'd be left here alone. I guess that wouldn't be anything new though.

I find myself repeating myself; my stupid excuses are like a broken record. I don't say "I'm fine" to hide, I don't say "I'm just tired" to make them go away, I just know they don't understand what it's like to live inside a dark place that's constantly moving and doesn't let you feel things except nervous and regret for things that don't matter anymore.

It's aggravating being self aware and anxious. I know I could probably just take the medication and shut off all the thoughts, the sad thoughts, the anxious thoughts, the happy thoughts, but I have the fear in the back of my head if I take the “easy way out,” then as punishment I might lose my creativity and without that I’m less than nothing. Without being able to create new and beautiful worlds in my head, I’d rather be dead.

I'm constantly surprising myself with how much I can force down in a pathetic attempt not to think about it.

It's so hard to openly be anxious without people assuming you're one of those tumblr girls looking for attention when really I have static buzzing in my veins and a hot ball of lead blocking my airway. Being depressed doesn't mean I'm emotional over everything, it means I lay in bed, in the same clothes I've been in for weeks, listening to the same three songs, and not having a reason for doing so.

I think the hardest things about being nervous and sad is that, it doesn't just hurt me. It worries my mother, it scares my boyfriend, it enables my best friend, and it sets a bad example for the children in my life. I don't want this life. Some day I want to be a wife, a mother, a successful business women and I don't want to just live, I want to thrive.

Some days are good, I wake up and can get out of bed, I make myself a tea, the sun is out and the sky is blue, I take a shower and can smell fresh rain on the side walk as I go on a morning stroll. These days make people think I am capable of happiness, which I am, but then they get mad when I sink back into my normal self. I find myself always having to apologize for feeling. Does that sound as silly to you as it does to me?