Understanding

Something is wrong with me.

I don't know what it is or what it could be.

I am not depressed.

That wouldn't make any sense, because I still laugh and smile and people with depression, I am told, cannot laugh or smile.

So I am not depressed.

But something is wrong.

No one has told me this.

No one has given me a name to call it.

No one else seems to know that something is wrong, so maybe it is nothing at all.

But I can feel it.

It is a sensation deep in my bones.

It reminds me that life is short and I am unlikely to accomplish anything of actual value.

It reminds me that I am one small person, and I am not worth much.

It reminds me that my tears mean nothing, and I will be forgotten and not missed for long.

So maybe nothing is wrong with me.

Maybe I have simply begun to understand.