Dear Ana

09. simple pleasures

Dear Ana,

thanks to my depression,
i no longer enjoy the things i used to.
i used to love biking with my dad,
down this specific trail near my house,
gravel crunching underneath the tires
and wind whipping in our ears
while the waves lapped
against the jagged rocks,
but lately, when i bike,
i feel nothing, absolutely nothing.

i used to love writing,
as truly, it can be interpreted as a metaphor for the control i so desperately seek,
since i'm the one who determines the settings
and the characters
and the ending,
but now if i write a short story,
it's more for an escape rather than enjoyment.

i used to love eating,
of the salty and sweet textures
cheese pizza and quesadillas and ice cream,
but obviously now,
i feel nothing.

i used to love pottery,
and even took classes for two years,
the clay moist and damp on my fingers,
molding it in my palms into a lopsided bowl,
but now i feel nothing.

i used to love running,
and in fact, i'm on the track team,
even though it originally started
as a plot to lose weight,
but eventually became an opportunity
for me to release stress,
to spend time with my best friends
as my feet slapped against the track
in a rapid 200 sprint,
but now i feel nothing.

i used to love painting,
the feeling of the oozing, smeared paint
underneath my fingers
as i spread the hues and shades
blending them together
across the span of the canvas,
but now i feel nothing.

i used to love learning,
never getting enough of devouring
textbooks and information
about animals,
about the process of photosynthesis,
but now i feel nothing.

i used to love sailing with my family,
since my dad, he has a sailboat,
and we'd go every weekend
on the river
with the cool breeze whipping against our cheeks,
and the water foaming against the boat,
but now i feel nothing.

i used to love spending time with my parents and sister,
as we'd always been a close-knit group,
going to museums,
playing board games all the time,
going on frequent trips every summer to Europe,
and i always felt so blessed that
i had two loving parents
and a sister who loved me, too
but now i feel nothing.

i used to love playing the guitar,
my thumb strumming and plucking the strings,
the sweet melody filling the air,
but now i feel nothing.

i could go on and on about the hobbies i used to enjoy,
how all the excitement and joy i once felt has now evaporated.

it doesn't mean i've stopped doing those things, however, because sometimes, for one single second, i actually will feel happy.

maybe i'll be at a meet for track,
exhilarated, my thighs throbbing from a quick dash, my teammates congratulating me on my race, and for a split moment,
i'll feel free
and normal.

and it doesn't just happen at track meets-
it can be when i'm blasting the music on the radio
and my sister and i are gossiping and laughing
or when i'm dragging my paintbrush
and finishing up a rose
or when i'm writing a story
and my raw emotions are poured
out upon the pages,
and not only do i feel free and normal,
but you're quiet,
and i allow myself to hope.

to hope that i'm not always going to feel this way,
that i have to get through each day one day at a day until it becomes easy,
that i do in fact have a great future ahead of me,
that i'm not the broken, unfixable girl you always claim i am.

these are the moments that keep me going.
because when it's late at night,
and everything is falling apart,
and i can't stop crying because i'm having an anxiety attack because i've convinced myself that somehow one of my parents are going to die in their sleep and even though it's irrational, i can't breathe,
and all i want is to take a knife and run it across my wrist,
i think of those moments.
those simple pleasures.

maybe they don't last long.
but still i cherish them.
because if i die,
there's so many things i won't ever experience again.
maybe that's a good thing,
as i'll never be suffocated with pain
or loneliness or emptiness or sadness ever again.

but i'll also never see the sun set, tucking itself behind the horizon.

i'll never get to hear the patter of rain against the windows in the morning,
as i'm curled up with a good book,
since that's the best way to spend a rainy day.

i'll never get to see my mother's caring smile
or feel the warmth of my dad's hugs
or the feeling of my dog pressing her body against me and cuddling me.

i'll never get to laugh with my friends
during track practice
while we're sweating from the sweltering heat.

i'll never get to spend Christmas with my family,
joyfully unwrapping the presents underneath the tree.

i'll never get to see myself grow back into the person i used to be,
i'll never get to see myself enjoy things again,
i'll never get to see myself happy and successful and living a life without you.

and no matter how many times i claim to have lost all hope,
i'm lying.
i do still have hope,
and i am still hanging on to living,
to breathing and existing,
no matter how fucking difficult it can be.

- from, me