You imagine me sitting under pastel skies, sipping tea and laughing with my friends. Not because somebody made a joke, just out of utter happiness. It’s not like that.
Don’t get me wrong, we do have the pastel skies up here in Norway, and the bitter tea, because nobody ever takes the teabags out of the pot.
And yes, I do have those lovely friends, that I wouldn’t wanna trade, who are my family here.
But I don’t laugh out of utter happiness, no matter how many of those assuming and dramatic “I know you’re better off without me”-messages you’ll send, to drown in your self pity.
One year abroad, no matter how amazing, doesn’t cure the depression, that lingered under my skin, six years, undiagnosed, because I was “fine”.
Being here with depression means not leaving the room for food, cause you hate yourself and the world. It means having heavy breakdowns, because you’re supposed to go for a walk.
It means standing at a beach on Hawaii, and the only thing you can think of is drowning yourself, and finally let go of all the pain.
It means standing in paradise while burning in hell, not able to touch the good things in the world around you.
Cause living means effort, and how am I going to do all this without any energy at all?
Yes, I am going back to psychiatry, when I come back home.
Because I feel lost, because my dad and I have so many things to figure out, because my grandmother left me and crushed my mother on her final step out of the door, because I am afraid to be seen.
I am afraid, no matter how many people tell me I am brave for doing this year.
How is this brave, if I’ll need more courage to go back home, than it ever took me to make my first step through the school door on my first day?
And this is the point you don’t understand.
You sit there and say you know and you care, but all you do is assume instead of listen, throwing all those assumptions around you, not giving a second thought to who you could be hurting.
Because a certain intelligence level seems to justify everything in your world. No, I didn’t go to psychiatry to get fixed, as you put it so nicely.
No, I didn’t leave you, because of her, cause she really didn’t matter to me, cause this was your business, not mine. I left you out of the same reason, I went to psychiatry: To save myself.
Because no matter what happens, I will be there for me, and I will go through everything it takes to survive.
But not if I hate me, and not when I am with somebody who makes me hate myself under the disguise of love.
I don’t say you meant it that way, but not the thought matters in this case, but the effect. And you crushed the last bit of air out of my lungs, to use it and speak about yourself.
That’s what you do, floating around in the orbit around your little world of chaos. And I am fine with that, but I won’t be part of it anymore.
I am not a wall you can use, to spray your adventures on, like a graffiti. I am a human, I feel and experience things, and I am ready to share it to those who listen.
You’re just not one of them, cause you didn’t learn to value other people, and not use them for your own satisfaction.
Cause you don’t message me for my sake, you message me because you’re lonely, and never really learnt how to get along with people who won’t sacrifice themselves for you.
Maybe you’re on your way to doing it, but I don’t wanna be part of that journey, when I’ve got my own path to walk.
Please get yourself a diary. They are patient, they listen, they keep their secrets and retell them to you whenever you want, and humans are just not like that.
And I won’t be like that for anybody anymore. I am finally free…