Being mentally ill with depression means that people may not always getme. I’ve come to accept that.
I’ve also come to accept that it’s okay.
A lot of the times I don’t even getmyself.
I guess “understand” would be a more accurate word.
It’s like trying to explain to somebody what May means to me, except it comes out sounding like this post’s title looks like.
They may never understand what it feels like. And I’m happy that they never will. I would wish this on no one.
There’s so many things I’ve never understood about myself for years, and have only begun to within the past 5-10 years of my life.
A list of un-understandables in my life has been:
I don’t understand why I feel sluggish all the time.
I don’t understand why laughing feels so forced.
I don’t understand why I…
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