Brooding.

Honestly I'd say that I'm quite depressed.
A friend once said that I was brooding.
Years have passed, and apparently I simply couldn't stop brooding.

I suppose I shouldn't really diagnose myself as being depressed.
Or even talk about it when I haven't really seek help.
Like I never seek help for my trouble sleeping.
As this suffocating feeling of sadness and hopelessness.

Every once in a while it gets like this for me.
My head gets heavy. Then there's like an invisible force pressing on my chest. Every laughter feels like an elaborated act. Every smile feels like an effort.
When I'm alone in my bed, I'd just cry my eyes out. Didn't need to be over anything. Sometimes having to do the laundry triggers it. Basically nothing, really.

I'm feeling unimportant.
I'm feeling worthless.
And I'm quite a feminist myself, so feeling these sort of feelings is also making me feel stupid at the same time. I'm angry at myself, I'm angry at the world.
I'm angry with life.

I'm questioning my part in the world.
Questioning my purpose in life.
How can I love my family, and know that I'm loved, but still feel excruciatingly alone.

Anyway, this will pass.
It may not sound normal, but it's pretty normal for me by now.
I may not keep my chin up, but I'll carry on. I'll wander around this earth in the attempts to fill up the emptiness inside of me.
Pray that perhaps one day I can be done with writing such sad entries.
Confident that when I say that I'm happy, I truly am and contented.