Words are what give us meaning. A word is nothing but something that signifies something else. Can something have meaning if it doesn't have a word, or something to signify its existence? I find myself groping for words to try to understand how I'm feeling. I've been with words brimming on my tongue with no way to let them off. Perhaps I am feeling meaningless.
It's not depression--I know what that feels like. I spend years clawing my way from the bottom. From having to count the reasons every morning so that I would be reminded the worth of getting out of bed. And for a few months a while ago, I was very happy. Every morning I'd find myself feeling untouchable, that no matter how many people would try to tear me down, they'd never be able to even make a dent.
But now I'm in this odd state in the middle, where nothing seems to be happening. But at the same time, everything is happening. It's as if I'm so numb that my life is passing me by without a word from my mouth to try and stop it. I don't like that, because wasting time is wasting a non-renewable resource.
Maybe my life is lacking meaning right now. Maybe it's the relationships I find myself in, as meaningless as they are fleeting. Maybe it's because I find no joy in my studies anymore. Maybe it's because my family is glass, long since shattered on the floor. Maybe it's because as quickly as I make friends, I lose them.
Nothing ever stays. It was not so long ago that I was so happy, and not so long ago that I was so sad. I'm floating somewhere in the middle, between knowing and not. Between insecurity and safety. Between love and hatred.
If nothing ever stays, I know I can take comfort in knowing that this, too, shall pass. It's just a matter of getting though, and hoping no one takes notice for long enough so that I may escape the ever pressing questions, most frequently, "Are you okay?"
Because there has never been a more dissatisfying answer as, "I don't know."
Because there has never been a more dissatisfying answer as, "I don't know."
