Unbearable sadness
Hello. First post here.
I am writing this like a small letter left at sea, without knowing whether anyone will ever read it. If you do, then thank you sincerely.
For several years now, I have lived in a strange state that I no longer know how to describe. It is not one precise grief, but something more diffuse, more constant, like a sort of oppression tied to existence itself.
During the day, I smile, I joke, I speak normally, and I make myself appear presentable enough for nobody to worry. People laugh with me. Sometimes I even laugh sincerely myself. And then I return home. The moment I close the door behind me, everything collapses. I cry for hours without truly knowing why. Not violently, just with a deep exhaustion that seems to come from too far inside oneself. Even ordinary things become difficult. Eating feels tiresome. Walking feels heavy. Some evenings, merely existing appears to demand more strength than I possess.
What torments me is not one single sadness, but the repetition of the same thoughts, always returning in different forms:
“I wish I could disappear. But what if death changes nothing?”
“No happiness will ever truly reach me. There will always remain this sadness underneath.”
“I wish I had never been born at all. It would have been simpler for everyone.”
I know these thoughts are excessive. I know they sound absurd, perhaps even ungrateful. Yet they never leave me. They follow me everywhere, even in moments that should be lighter. No matter what I do, I always end up returning to the same feeling: a profound weariness at being alive.
Lately, I have begun to frighten myself a little. After years spent containing everything, I sometimes feel sudden bursts of anger and aggression. They disappear almost immediately and leave me ashamed afterward, because I do not truly wish to hurt anyone. I think there is simply too much frustration and sorrow accumulated inside me, with nowhere left to go.
At this point, I care less about what becomes of me than about the possibility of becoming harmful to the people around me.
I do not know exactly why I am writing tonight. Perhaps because silence has become too heavy. Perhaps because there are evenings when being alone with one’s thoughts is harder than speaking into the void.
And perhaps also because of loneliness. I often feel as though nobody truly hears me, or as though I no longer know how to make myself heard. In truth, I have almost no one beside me except my boyfriend.
So I think I simply needed, for once, to feel that I was speaking directly to another human being.
If you have read this until the end, thank you. Truly.