About the series :
In case the title didn’t give it all, Through the Shattered Glass is going to be my Grey Journal. I am going to document my lowest, darkest moments in life. It is also a Journal, but it will only display my darkest days, perhaps even a bit about the aftermath.
I had a different perspective on how I was going to write this new ” Through the Shattered Glass” entry.
I had a very bad “semi-episode” a few days ago. A semi episode cause I managed to prevent myself from burning my night with tears.
Now that I was feeling better, I thought maybe I am ready to write this, and press share. I even came up with something a little special to do of this post. But then, I felt tightness in my chest, which is my most infamous sign of an approaching episode. May God bless my fucked up neurotransmitters and hormones.
I have been actually having a great day. But no, of course hE had to show up. To creep misery and unhappiness into my veins.
I wasn’t going to give up though. I was planning to leave the conference early, and head to the Gym. You know, get me some chemical free endorphins. I even went on an app, translated “Is there a gym here? If yes, then where?” into Chinese.
P.S: I am currently in China, volunteering in the Special Care project.
I found this lovely lady who works on the same floor as where the conference room was being held. There was no Gym, so I went back to my room, where some of my friends where hanging. I thought that perhaps talking to them would help, but i think you can guess how this chapter of the story ends. I decided to go for a jog around the Hotel, but the sky decided that this was the best time for a heavy rain.
So here I am, sitting in one of this hotel’s lobby corners, writing this in my notebook cause my laptop isn’t working.
If you are still reading this, here is what happened a few days ago.
Perhaps this would show how Depression is an actual Mental Illness, and not a “Cool” adjective for your sadness.
Like today, I was having a great day. I walked through an ancient Chinese street, played a uniquely themed escape room, and hanged with my friends. Sounds lovely, right? Perhaps ‘Lovely” is what triggers and summons hIM, or so it seems.
I tried to ignore all of hIS lethal lyrics; the ones that always serenade me to my doom. I managed to keep up with all of my friends, but when we finally took the bus, I found solace in closing my eyes,and sitting quietly on a seat. Solace, cause sleepy people struggle keep their eyes open without tearing up, and only then are few tears shed publicly is acceptable. And whenever my eyes were open, my friends would ask if I am okay because …..
“Your eyes! They look empty.”
Wanna read what the demon taunted me with? Not just that my death would lead to a better world, no. I am used to that same old tune.
“What if you enslave yourself to one of those people who work in the black market?”
“Get all of your organs sold to someone who actually deserves to live.”
“Those who run the black market have families; they need that money.”
” Do one right thing with your pathetic life.”
So yeah. Depression is just a better synonym for your “sadness”, right??
(P.S: This was written a few weeks ago)
Till next time,