This week's been tough.

In the months since I've left home, some pretty horrendous shit has headed my way, but those are storms I've weathered with people around me and an unconquerable soul. Comparably, I suppose it's easier to deal with sadness when its cause is tangible and one can think and over-think the reasons; turn it into a drama, a tragedy, a comedy; until eventually it becomes nothing but an episode in your past from which you have grown.

I don't know what went wrong. I don't know why, when I woke up on Monday morning that my brain simply decided that No, I was not going to be happy. I was going to be jealous, I was going to be grumpy, I was going to be easily provoked, and no matter what people said to me, it was going to be wrong. If others asked if I was okay, I was to be angry that they were such fucking perfect good people, while simultaneously being angry at those motherfuckers that don't even notice/care that their supposed friend is hurting when they didn't. I couldn't enjoy movies, or bars, or strolling across campus.

The shocking part is how huge and sudden transition my moods have gone through. I was through with the depression I had suffered as a teenager. I was so happy. I waxed lyrical about how much I loved my life.

I have not felt this way since I was 15, and it has utterly blindsided me.

Last week I appreciated everything I saw. I was happy walking home in the rain. I was happy walking to an early morning class in a snow flurry. I was happy sharing idle chit chat with people I genuinely respected.

Last week I was so strong. I'd tell you how I could achieve anything with a bit of internal grit and external duct tape.

Look, I'm going to stop trying to describe what I don't understand, so I'll just say this:

This week's been tough.

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