I’m not okay.
There are two sides to everything: two sides to every story, night and day, inside and out… and even for me. See, there’s who I am, and then there’s who I want to be.
On this blog, I’ve always preached to be yourself. Really, it’s what my blog is about. But I myself have never truly been able to follow my own advice, though I may have occasionally tricked myself into believing otherwise (particularly, here lately). I’ve been kicked back with my feet up, living inside my own little fantasy world with the drapes shut and doors locked. Just me, myself, and my lies. In this fantasy world, I am exactly who I’ve always wanted to be. I have the job, smile, heart, dreams… Basically, I’m happy.
But every so often, I’ll stumble into a situation that’ll shake me, and I’ll wake up.
As I write this post, I’m sitting alone at a table for two in the middle of Starbucks. Not that that’s a problem—a lot of people come to Starbucks alone to work. But right now, it’s happy hour here, and the place is quite busy. Everyone here is with someone. I see relationships in their rawest form. What they should look like. Laughter, comfort, and warmth. I can see it, but why can’t I ever feel it? Moments like these are the only ones loud enough to finally wake me up and bring me back to reality. When I first walked through the doors of this store, I felt confident in what I felt—but as I sit here, everyone’s laughter fades to a drone, then white noise, then silence. I look around and I see what happiness—real happiness—looks like. I then reflect over my own happiness and I realize it was never truly there to begin with. It was a dream. And I’ve woken up.
“Look at them. They can all laugh and play; it comes so easily for them. Even though I’m not one of them, even though sometimes I can truly be a monster, today I’m just… a sea monster.”
And it’s only when I’m awake that I sit up, look around, and fully appreciate the melancholic tragedy of my reality. It being that I’ve been lying to myself. My truth is that I’m not happy. I’m lost, I’m empty… I’m depressed.
But, despite this revelation, I don’t believe I’ll ever snap out of my little dream world. In my dreams, I’m exactly who I want to be, and honestly, I’d rather live a lie than face my broken reality. So, I’ll close my drapes, lock my doors, lay myself down, and go back to sleep.
I’m not happy.
I’m not okay.
Thanks for reading.