unfiltered stories

little stories everywhere

[nfltrdstories]

I just saw a video for Sir Michael Gambon where Harry Potter World attendees did the “Wands up,” tribute. I’m not a Harry Potter fanatic and I’m not normally so easily brought to tears, but I am always in awe of humanity’s celebration of a life after death.

We’ll do anything to say, “Hey, you mattered and you mattered to ME. You changed my life. You made me want to live and I will never forget you.”

I don’t think I’ll ever find anything as beautiful as human connection.

[nfltrdstories]

The Siblings

I am the first of four. The first daughter.

My brother is the second of four. The first son.

We both have depression. Undiagnosed.

Because therapy is taboo.

I am high functioning. He is not.

His is noticed by family and friends. Mine is not.

Neither of us are the type to ask for help. Vulnerability is weak.

I think he wonders about suicide. I wonder about death.

I don’t want to die, but last week I had a daydream about what I would tell the nurse to say if I knew I wasn’t going to survive a fatal car accident.

“Tell my mom I’m okay with this. Tell them I love them and I’m happy.”

I don’t want to die, but I can only imagine relief if it came.

I want help, but the words never seem to find their way out of my mouth.

Please, someone notice. Please.

(I’ll never let it be noticeable.)

[nfltrdstories]

While growing up, I’m realizing I’ll probably never get the apologies I needed so badly when those wrongs were done. And that I’m, once again, the one responsible for fixing something I didn’t break.

[nfltrdstories]

there’s no cure, only time

I wish the things that were wrong with me were things medicine could fix.

I think I’d accidentally overdose from sheer desperation.

[nfltrdstories]

the daughter of a father

It is hard to be the daughter of a bad father. To spend a lifetime looking for everything he was not in a partner. Or to have a seemingly everlasting resentment for men in general; because they somehow always remind you of him. Yet you fall for them anyway.

It is lonely to be the daughter of a good father. To spend a lifetime searching for him in other men. Only to be left with a pattern of disappointment, because they can never measure up. It is easier to be alone.

Why is it so hard to replace a good man?

[nfltrdstories]

I have only ever lived my life dreaming of the future or reminiscing on the past. Never just living in the PRESENT. It’s like there's a piece of sadness in me that refuses to let me enjoy the happiness of present moments. Instead that stupid, little, sad voice is saying, 'What if we had done this instead?' or 'Remember when we did this? That was way more fun.' I feel like I am an optimistic person. I truly do. But there’s a weakness that comes with being optimistic. Your optimism relies on, 'What if it turned out like this?' and 'Didn't it turn out great the last time?' You say it in a hopeful voice because optimism is just blind happiness, or learned happiness, not current happiness. You’re constantly living your life in the future or the past. So is it really a good thing? It feels more like torture.

nfltrd