Looking back, I don't imagine that I've felt well in quite a long time. I don't know if there is a reason why. Some people don't have a reason. I think that I have everything a person needs to be happy. I have a supportive family. I have a job. I have a place to live. I have a wonderful partner who is kind and understanding. I have food. I have some money. I have the opportunity to receive an education of my choosing. I have a friend. Sure, the word is singular, but depending on the quality, you may only need one. I'm drinking a smoothie he bought me right now.
For some reason I can't pin down I'm not happy. It's not that I am not happy here and there. I have this inescapable feeling of exhaustion. Content and calm are not my default adjectives. I wonder if everyone is like that or just me. My default state of being is worry. I even worry that I emotionally can't achieve calm.
I've spent the last six years suffering from a deep bout of depression, the cause and depths of which I could never quite reach the bottom of. I first blamed it on my parents. The day they told me we were moving to Texas, I don't remember what happened, but I imagine that I freaked out in a way most unladylike. I even tried to run away from home while my parents were out of state. I didn't make it. I thought that this was the biggest of my worries. But I was a deeply diluted fifteen year old, and though I would have wholeheartedly loved to believe that I hadn't fallen victim to the Nicholas Sparks, Hollywood-peddled mirage that is true love, I was lying to myself. Let me say, as a side note, that there is truly no person on earth I would rather see struck down by cosmic vengeance than Nicholas Sparks. I spurn the ridiculous notion that if you love someone but you don't like anything about them, you can change them. Alas, I was proven gullible. This mantra in essence informed four of the last six years of my life, and I have to say I am disappointed that I could be so foolish. I wanted what I had to be special. I wanted what I had to have greater meaning than can be prescribed by reality. Doesn't everyone? Yes. That's a problem. The secret to happiness is high standards and low expectations.
No, being severed from my first, albeit it misguided, puerile, and unbalanced, teen romance was the least of my worries. I just didn't know it yet.