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[yllam]

01.02.24

It has always been hard for me to describe how I feel to others. So hard to compare to some of the most beautiful phrases people before me have used. No matter how happy, angry or sad I’m feeling, it’s always been hard to tell. Even to myself.

All I can do is smile and nod politely, and say that I’m doing well. Partly because I don’t want to think about it too much, because I know that if I try to do that too much, I might lose myself to the feeling.

To the deep sadness that has always been there as long as I remember. Even if I know I should be happy, if nothing should be wrong. 

Wish I’d know how to stop that. 

Right now I can’t even bring myself to find the words, because I feel like all my emotions are just different shades of black. All too alike – too similar – to differentiate.

Even if I do have moments of happiness, it’s always fleeting. Until my mind isn’t occupied with everything else or if I have no one to smile for. When my eyes close and I wait for sleep to come. 

As I age, I slowly start to lose the hope I’ve had so far. That if I force myself to be happy just for a little while longer, it would be permament. No longer fleeting, just a default setting. 

I wish I could just pick out the colors from all the dark shades of black. Even if just for a little bit, even if just for once.  

Or that I could wake up one day and not thread the day ahead. To accept it, maybe even anticipate it. To want to feel the sun touch my cheek and create freckles on my skin or colour my hair all different shades of blonde. 

But slowly I’ve started to lose hope for that future, that for me there will always be the dark shades of black. And as I try to pour bright colors into my pool of emotions, all they do is swallow them up. 

Just another fleeting happy thought – a bright colour losing its shine and turning black.