I wish I could sleep
Really. It’s been almost a week (that’ll be tomorrow) since my friend’s sister passed away and I haven’t had more than two or three hours of (discontinued) sleep ever since.
Sure, I am affected by her death, but more so, by the terrible confrontation of the fact that we were almost the same age. And while at her wake, the day before yesterday, I broke down and sobbed. I assume people thought I was crying because I was so moved by her death and in a way, I was. But mostly, I was crying because of the idea of death and what it would mean to me. Her wake and funeral were attended by 100+ people. And she was so much loved and had such an amazing family. What set me off crying was the realization that, if my funeral happened tomorrow, there would be almost nobody there. Just maybe half a dozen or a dozen people at max. Not just because I am a loner (which I am, I count my friends with the fingers of one hand) but also because I have no family here.
I am not writing this because I want some pity or comfort. I realize how good my life is in every aspect and that, I suspect, also plays a role. I feel guilty for being depressed. I feel I do not have the right to be depressed. I should be counting my blessings (which are many) and not dwell in this melancholy that, in turn, triggers anxiety and does not allow me to sleep (which, in turn, makes being depressed and anxious worse… you know, the vicious circle).
So yeah, I am a mess of mixed feelings and unwillingness to do much. I answer work related emails, concentrate on the stuff that keeps me distracted and that’s about the end of it. Because right now, I wish I had some pills and could sleep for one whole night uninterrupted by weird dreams every hour.
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