Well, not really. For those of you that know me well, you'll know that bad music is a guilty pleasure for me. I'm not saying I don't like Taylor Swift. I freaking love Taylor Swift. I'm just saying that most thirty-somethings probably don't. But she's genius sometimes. Take this lyric that has been bouncing around in my head for some time now, "Time won't fly. It's like I'm paralyzed by it. I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it." I can't stop repeating that line over and over in a silent monologue that just keeps going on and on.
I expected that, as time passes, this would all get easier. Better. Normal. I should be able to get back to my life. Instead, I feel like time just inches along and nothing changes in my head. The world keeps spinning around me, but I'm at a stand still. I feel isolated from everyone else. It's as if I can't relate to the existence I've always existed within.
For me, this experience, the mental illness, goes on and on. I went to the hospital, I got help, I'm in therapy, I'm on medication, things should be okay. It feels as though people expect that I should just be better. I expect that I should just be better. Instead, I am still this shattered me that's putting pieces back together, but will forever be changed, marred, broken.
Some day, I may actually be able to live a life that resembled the one I lived before. I may be able to take stress in stride, distinguish who I am from the opinions of others, take some pride in my existence. Or, I may put my head down, do what I have always done, and find myself exactly here again. Always. While I hope that that's not true, the more time passes that I feel the same, the less I believe that things may change.