At least there’s a word for a drowning in electric pieces. Having a diagnosis doesn’t explain it, like taking your meds doesn’t cure you. It becomes sustainable enough for a game plan.
If you know, you know it’s not just sadness.
It’s guilt at asking for something you deserve.
It’s disgust with yourself for not being “normal” or able to rally. It’s insecurity that your complete social emptiness is striking people as bitchiness, or selfishness, or just insecurity. It’s miserable insatiability; it’s apologetic unhappiness.
When people take a term and glamorize it, misrepresent it, use it flippantly and take the power out of it, it’s frustrating.
I don’t need anyone to understand. I will never assume that I understand what someone else’s mind does to them.
When people from California say they love the rain, you need to recognize they don’t know rain like downpour.
Waking up and not knowing what to prepare for.
Begging yourself to just get through it, knowing once you get inside you’ll be wearing what you ran through.
Every step will hold a little more weight as it finds you, saturates, and weighs you down… constantly hoping your clothes don’t dissolve around you.
I think rain can be beautiful through a window. I think it’s inevitable, seasonal even in the sunniest climates; it’s important for clear air, and way more fun to dance in then to walk through.