In our desperation, we see what we want to see. But in my desperation, I see people as they are and worse; unfeeling, unemphatic and selfish hypocrites. I’ve been watching more feel-good movies and dramas just to feel some hope; to lie to myself that maybe reality isn’t that harsh and things could very well have a happy ending.
Furthermore, while I’ve been pushing away thoughts of my dead granddad, I still see the people I love dying. I get the occasional nightmare of a loved one dropping dead and end up crying in my sleep. In the past, my dreams used to be my refuge from reality, but now, even that little shred of where I might belong is fading.
My friends think I’m happy and my life is a comedy. But my life is a tragedy. My existence is what it is. In these few months, this is the closest I’ve come to wanting to die. It feels much different than the teenage depression I’ve faced.