Frayed

My veins
haven't been cut,
but my bonds to life
have frayed.

Incompatible perspective

I've been spending a lot of my time with my grandpa, since I've been working with him for the past two weeks. I haven't held a facade for him; that would be entirely too difficult. So, he's seen how apathetic and melancholy I am. He doesn't handle it very well. He thinks that my apathy is anger. He thinks that saying ridiculous things will cheer me up. He thinks that telling me about how he's gotten through problems in his life will convince me to just move on.

There's one huge difference between his experience and mine. He suffers from anxiety, and I suffer from depression. He is filled with various different emotions that he struggles to recognize and control. I'm mostly empty, with sadness being the most prevalent emotion I have. Everything is too important to him, but everything is hardly important to me. He needs to calm down, but I need to step up. He just can't understand what I'm feeling, even if he's had a similar issue to deal with. The advice he gives simply isn't right for me.

I cried behind his back today. Later, I cried in front of him, too. But, in the end, the crying was pointless. It didn't change anything. I didn't even feel better afterward. I felt too uncomfortable for crying to help in any way. I honestly never even considered that discomfort could deny the benefits of crying. I guess I know now, though.

I want to keep talking openly with people I am, or was, close with. But I feel sometimes that there isn't a point. So many of those people just don't get me, even if they could. They want to talk, but they don't say the right things. I feel the urge to isolate myself more and more, even though I know that's the wrong thing to do.

Still, even if I stop talking to those people, I will keep talking where I feel comfortable. I'll continue updating Tell Her Before I Die, posting #keepgoingforlove on Google+, talking to my therapist, and so on. I won't give in to my desire to disappear.