Sometimes the positivity feels fake, or forced, or like i never even had it in the first place when i get into my lows. It gets dangerous in my head, cause i know im doing well, and moving forward. But a little part of me is always like "yeah ok but what if you killed yourself? would any of this matter in the end?" And whats even scarier is that sometimes i dont have an answer. I dunno why or where this emptiness comes from, or where it goes in the moments between, or if it really is always there, just sitting in the back of our mind, waiting to play its tricks of telling us how we don't really matter, or how nobody would genuinely care if we just, disappeared or did die, because we're already so easily forgotten or overlooked.
I dunno, sometimes we feel hollow, like there's really nothing inside except rot and decay. That the things we find happy aren't really real, and never even existed in the first place.
And what's even more frustrating is that we know we're doing well, but it never just feels like well enough. Like i wont ever be better or truly happy, or loved, or cared for. And i know I'm supposed to do it myself, but what if i can't do it all? What if we want someone to hold our hand and still love the ick?
Fanciful ideals for someone so undeserving.