You know how satisfying it feels when you hear a cog or a part of some bigger machine fit into whatever slot it was meant to go into? That *click* sound that says: ‘Hey, you’ve just done something right that will ultimately get this thing up and running again. You will now have something to show your friends: a testament that you do not, in fact, suck.’
That’s what it felt like for me yesterday. I can’t actually tell anyone who will read this what it was that I did exactly. I’m not even sure if it was something I had done by inaction or otherwise. It’s just two years of depression has robbed me of a lot of things, and almost lost me what was most important.
But yesterday the piece I was missing slid into place. Memoriese flooded in, accompanied by the small conversations and random twitterings of a million other coincidences, all telling me something I’ve already told myself years ago. I had forgotten who I was overtime; lost myself to wanting something I swore I would set free. I have become possessive. Not a trait that’s all too bad, given the right circumstance, but it was destroying me from the inside.
I feel happy again. I really do. People try their best to cheer you up because they want to see you happy, and it really helps. However, for someone to become happy with everyone else, one must allow themselves to become happy again.
Tadaima.
