I’m caught in between happiness and despair. I feel sad, I feel happy. I feel relieved, I feel anxious. I feel burdened, I feel grateful. I feel worthless, I feel entitled. It’s all a contradiction. A sick contrast of reality and a canopy of wellbeing.

It has a lot to do with the happy pills. They work. But they don’t. It’s hard to explain. Am I more active? Yes. Am I less depressive? Yes. Do I argue less? Do I feel less angry? Absolutely! It definitely works in that regard. But maybe it’s a mask? A veneer of “okayness”. Because deep down, so far down. I believe it’s all still there. Yet on the outside, I’m a little bit numb. Just a “whatever” sort of feeling. A lot of indifference.

I’m going to change this domain someday. I need to. It’s not representative of who I am today. I’m better than I was before, but still short of who I could be. I need work, lots of work! I cannot share myself in this type of atmosphere until I feel whole. I’m not perfect. I probably never will be. I want to be! But I realize that I like the imperfections too much. They’re comforting.

Imperfections are comforting. They make us feel ok. I’m ok.