An old journal entry on depression, loneliness, and the fear of being too much to understand.
From the Attic
This entry was written on September 13, 2020. It is shared here as part of an archive of old writings and reflects a particular moment in my life.
Content note: depression, loneliness, and self-loathing.
Maybe it was because I was already feeling low,
but I felt physically awful on Friday and again Saturday morning.
My whole body felt drained. I was dizzy.
There was this crushing sensation, as if something were pressing down on me from above,
and I kept feeling nauseous.
I had no energy all day.
I really am terrible at handling stress.
I wish someone would ask me, just once,
What’s wrong? Tell me.
Then I think I would burst into tears and tell them everything—
how unfair this felt, how hurt I was by that, all the things I have been holding in.
In the end, the only person in this world who truly knows and understands me is me.
Am I expecting too much?
Or am I simply not worth expecting that much for?
Depression comes back.
The darkness closes in.
The night feels endless, and I do not know how long this silence will settle over my soul this time.
I spent so long pretending to be a fool that somewhere along the way, I became one.
At least that is how I see myself now.
I am a fool.
Not long ago, my aunt sent me my grandmother’s old journal.
There were traces of depression in it too.
I could imagine, at least a little, what she must have been feeling,
so I sat there staring at the page for a long time.
Fool. I hate myself.
No one but the person saying those words to themselves knows what it feels like.
Those stretches of time when hating yourself somehow feels like the only way to endure yourself.
Will I be able to love?
And will I ever be loved?
September 13, 2020
Why I’m sharing this
When I was going through this period, one of the few things that made me feel less alone was discovering that someone else had once felt something similar. I’m sharing this old entry for the same reason. Not because pain should be romanticized or explained away, but because sometimes simply being recognized can be a kind of comfort. If you found this because you are in a similar place, I hope these words make you feel a little less alone tonight.
