“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.”

     I have defined myself via unreliable and fickle measurements, I have seen myself as the depressed girl, the one who's fucked up, the one who no one can fix.      

                                    But now, how am I supposed to define myself if I am happy, if I feel fixed. I have only seen myself as the sad girl, but now I feel happy, I'm content. I feel loved but how am I supposed to accept it when I've been depressed for so long. I guess I don't know how to be happy. I don't know if I deserve this. I always pictured myself as the girl with tired eyes one who red philosophy, too busy with he own sadness to see people. Look at me, my eyes have a shine again, I wake up and am excited to see the day. Am I still the same person?  Is my sadness what defines me? 

      I'm happy, I just don't know if I'm being happy the right way. I'm worried I'm losing myself, but it's really the opposite. I haven't been happy for years, and now being happy feels like the worst boulder to ever push. It's a good pain though, the pain I have wanted. I sound stupid, I know I do, but I have no clue how else to describe my feelings.

It's funny, at one point I wanted to feel as if I fit in, I hoped to find others of my species. But now, I feel fine with being the only one of my species. Because now, I am an alien, but now I'm fine with it. I am different, my head isn't like others but now, I feel okay with it. I don't need people to be just like me, because I'm happy with who I'm becoming, even if it's alien.

“I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve.”
― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice