this week is going to suck hard.
This Saturday is going to be exactly 4 years when I've lost my most precious person in the world. And it sucks that I'll be stuck at work all day, I'll have to smile to people and pretend that I won't be dying inside. Not just werehouse, no. I'll also have to work at the club. All the music, all those happy people... I'm pretty sure that at some point I'll just lose it and cry my feelings out. Because oh boy I will cry. I know one year it was so bad I called my aunt and I couldnt say a word and I got her really worried until she realised what day it was and started calming me down. It was so bad I woke up with all the capillaries popped under my eyes, throat scratched because it was hard to breathe. It was that bad, I miss Her so very much it kills me every time someone asks where my Parents are. Sometimes I just reply with 'in Lithuania' or just talk as if my Aunties are my Parents, sometimes I tell people and I get that 'oh I'm so sorry' and every time I just want to rip their eyes out saying that this sorry wont help to bring them back. Sometimes it gets so bad, I miss them so terribly much I take scissors in my hands ready to just cut myself and join Them. And then I look at my tattoo and it saves me. It saves me every time. It reminds me how much my Parents went through to give me everything I wanted, to bring me up the way I am and just how proud They are of where I am now. I couldn't do this to Them. Not when They sacrificed so fucking much. I couldnt look Them in the eyes in the afterlife if I did this to myself.
When my Dad died, my Mum went to the psychic and she told Her that if I keep looking to my Dad's pictures he's gonna call me to him. Well, basically, I'll be dead as well. So I grew up barely seeing my Dad's pictures. And just after my Mum passed, I have my parents pictures in my room. I'm not actually sure if that's because I kinda want them to call me to Them or just because I'm afraid I might forget to remind myself of what I've lost.
Dont get me wrong, I love my life, I really do. I love the way I learned to smile and laugh at the smallest thing, I love the way I cheer up people who need to be cheered, I love making people around me laugh, I love knowing I do something good. I love to do what I'm doing. I'm so fucking proud of myself and I know my Parents are. It's just those moments that get me, you know? I am allowed to be sad. I'm allowed to have days when I don't want to leave my bed and just pretend no one around me exists. I'm allowed to cry.
Since now I officially know I have depression, I can proudly say I'm dealing with it. I have my dark days, but my bright days are much better than it used to me. I learned how to be happy.
Love you guys xx
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