Yesterday I revisited a place that's the home of a community I'm in. This community and that place are the roots of my depression and anxiety and the very reason I became suicidal in 2016.
I hadn't been in that room for over six months, maybe more, like eight nine months.
And immediatly when I stepped into the room a wave of... complete sadness overwhelmed me. I felt immediatly hated, though there weren't even that many people I knew there. I felt like isolating myself in a hidden corner and being on my phone instead.
I didn't. The party was good. When a friend asked me how I am, I said where the answer should be "I'm fine thanks" "I'm ok". "I'm ok"?? It came out soo obvious that I felt wrong, and she's one of the few who know about the problems I had in the past. I felt like a mood ruiner.
During the break, the feelings came back. And this time I hid myself behind the coat-hangers. My friend found me eventually, and asked why I was hiding. I replied: "Because I party by isolating myself :)"
I mean, I really liked my table company and I like to sing, but there are too many underlying feelings in me for me to enjoy anything there. I took a selfie for my snapchat because I liked my makeup. Took another one. And a third and a forth. Because it seemed, in all pictures, like I was hiding the fact that I was crying. I wasn't crying, but my eyes didn't lie that I wasn't okay. I finally published one, without caring about what other people would think. Maybe someone stopped to think about my sad eyes, but I beat an horse's ass that no one did.
When I came home I felt more depressed than I've done in many many weeks. A solemn sadness, an overwhelming sadness. I dreamt nightmares the whole night. And I woke up sad. Not crying sad, but there's-a-hole-in-my-chest-sadness.
As I write this the hole is still not filled. Though I try.
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