Who am I? What has become of what I once was? This question haunts me every time I struggle to fall asleep. Sometimes I also question myself who I was in the first place. I lied- maybe I never knew who I was. At the same time I always believed that a singular person is more than just one idea and experience.
I may have not expressed this to those who are close to me but I narrate my everyday occurrences in my head. I have trouble concentrating in processing a single thought that I just slip away into the abyss of nothingness. This is when I realized that I, Jessy, have succumbed into depression. I keep telling myself that I’m not, my ex-fiance’ would insist that I’m not and those who knew of my struggles would brush it off because I am the strong person in their eyes and that I am lucky. I’ve read somewhere that depression has no face- I show up to work on time, I manage to put myself together and face a grueling day of work head-on. It can be the disarray present at your living room or your attention to detail in putting on your false eyelash.
Sometimes I feel that I am not here, I am just a silhouette. That is why I would like to say sorry from the depths of my soul. I’m sorry that I am not as strong as I was and I’m sorry for slipping further away. Like any struggling-slash-wannabe writer, I also recognize that one day I will cringe over this entry, laugh at how foolish I was and look back on what I have not known at this very moment. No, this is not a suicide note. This is the first step to healing and building myself from the ground up once again. I was born 26 years ago but today I am in the process of slipping outside utero and one day, I shall fully live, get to know who and what I truly am and breathe.
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