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.