Probably the most surprising feeling to me is contentment. I’ve gone over the prospect of a world where I wake up without being unhappy or hating myself at least twice a day. The fact that such a world exists for other people is difficult to picture. Did I do something wrong when I was younger that lead me to this place? Is it really just all chemical reactions in my brain and if it is, how do I know the real me isn’t being buried by my medications? Trying to figure out whether or not you’re really a negative asshole is a troublesome activity. It usually makes you wallow in self-pity.
It’s been six months since I was diagnosed with dyskeratosis congenita. Part of me thought I was supposed to have one of those life changing experiences where I would suddenly have the urge and motivation to push myself towards a better future. A future where I worked toward the things I wanted, was nicer to everyone and didn’t take every day for granted. After a few weeks that part of me died. I realized that this disease doesn’t change my life anymore than anything else that’s happened to me. I’m not suddenly a new person. If anything, I’m discovering who I have always been, which is someone who is still just as mysterious to me now as I was when I was a teenager.
I’m lonely all the time. I stay inside my apartment all day and play video games until I get bored enough to start watching TV or vice versa. On the rare occasion I do go outside, I spend a lot of my effort convincing my roommate to come with me just so I don’t have to feel so alone. I want to feel like I’m doing something. I don’t write anymore. I don’t talk to most of my friends anymore either. I’ve also noticed that it’s becoming increasingly hard for me to be nice to people. My mind is often muddled up with insults and disgusting thoughts of hatred and anger. Where does it all stem from? Is it because I’m so unhappy that I must make everyone around me as unhappy as I am? Is it because I think I can get away with it?
Self-pity is not something I’m proud of by any means. Repeatedly, I say the same things to myself in hopes of change. They say that actions speak louder than words.
I just wish I knew what actions would help me find peace.