3.46 am

by Rie

This post is brought to you by a sleepless night.

I’m sick, again. My nose is stuffy, it’s cold and hot at the same time, my body is aching – I am decidedly not happy.

Of course, while tossing and turning, I thought of many other things and decided I was not happy.

I imagined myself writing an article or standing witness to something in court and being torn down. “She is hardly a reliable witness. Her thoughts are worth little because her mind is addled by depression and anxiety.”

And they wouldn’t be wrong, I suppose. I would be an awful witness because I would hem and haw and ask philosophical questions rather than get to the point. (It’s just that I don’t have the confidence to express my thoughts. I hate being wrong and I haven’t decided on many things.)

I was thinking of a friend I used to have. I thought of how childish it could all seem to an outsider but also of how I saw no other way about it. (Perhaps a sign I’m a child?) My emotions hold court and pull every reaction into alignment – visceral and conscious. It was a mechanism that had turned on to say, “She has hurt you. She will hurt you again. Run.”

Run. Run. Run.

That, I think, might be why I am unhappy. There is no permanence because I am all too happy to slash my own roots to escape.

So, to those friends, past and future, there’s really not much to it. I am struggling. If you’re a very nice person, you would have suffered no loss. Rather, you would have gained several hours of your time.

(In fact, I feel like I have been told this before. One friend decided to interpret a very depressed person’s actions, i.e., me in the middle of a breakdown, as something that would possibly affect her more than it would affect me. Long story short: I became even more depressed, cut off all ties, and proceeded to eat all meals in my room. Really. There is no rationale in these things.)

What are these early morning thoughts? I really just want to sleep.

The funny thing is that I’m hardly at all anxious at home. I just get sick a lot. Meanwhile, every sickness in Sydney is generally caused by my anxiety (as in, don’t want to get out of bed, plead grave illness, etc.).

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