Diary of a Lost One

Writing is supposed to be a therapy. And until I finally manage to take a step, I will use this medium to reflect on my life. Today will be the first day of a hopefully long series of writings.

Is it a depression that I have? Does depression mean, not to want to get up in the morning, not to want to go out and meet people, to be unsatisfied with life spending almost any free second scrolling aimlessly through ones phone, just to distract thoughts rushing through the mind? Or is this just a phase, a moment everybody once in a while has to go through? Where are the lines, and when does it get a serious condition, that restricts daily life?

Two years ago I began my journey. My journey of a long, well-prepared dream. I started setting out for a travel, all by myself, and it was by far more beautiful that I ever have imagined. Before reaching my final destination, I fell in love with a narcissist, and decided to give up on continuing my travel and stay. I replaced my dream with the intense desire to be with this certain person and I tried everything possible to achieve it. Only to realize everything was a lie, a construct just to manipulate me into having feelings, feelings I never felt before. So now about one year after this moment of realization I am still struggeling. Struggeling to get back on my feet in my birth country, struggeling to trust people, to fall in love and to allow love. But how has it come so far? In the end I believe I carry a lot of unhealthy habits in me, that were allowing this transformation in the first place. I want this to be my platform, to talk freely about my past, my feelings and my struggles. Struggles to stand up and live.

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