I’m Alive But I’m Not Living

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I’m Alive But I’m Not Living

I’ve lost the will to live. 

Not the will to be alive. I keep breathing in and out and I keep being alive but I’m not living. 

Not like I used to. 

I used to try to make the most of days and work trips. I wanted to enjoy every moment as much as I could. Now, I don’t live. I just get myself through each day hoping something will change. 

I’m not living anymore.

So I sit in this hole. It’s not getting any deeper but I haven’t yet found the motivation to climb out of it. I just sit. 

This is not a cry for help. I’m not writing this looking for somebody to save me. This post is not me looking for anything other than to release. I’m writing to be honest about where I am at. I’m writing my words as they sit inside my head because I don’t say them out loud. Other people reading may feel the same. This may help them feel less alone. Sometimes when we sit in our holes, somebody else is in a hole right next to us but we can’t see them. 

The best part about things at the moment is that life is busy for everyone. Everybody has stuff going on that keeps them distracted so even when I tell them I’m not ok, they listen but they don’t hear me.

They are so distracted by their own lives that they can’t hear me telling them I’m stuck in this hole. Instead, they tell me about their stresses and worries, I give advice and they tell me I’m a good listener. They thank me for hearing them.

It makes it easier.

I don’t feel like a burden. I don’t feel like I’m asking for help. It also means I don’t have to pretend to take their advice on board when they ask if I’ve “tried being less upset”. When they tell me to try meditation or yoga or to exercise more. Those things really help when you’re feeling low. 

What they don’t know is that my hole that I’m sitting in doesn’t have enough space for yoga or exercise. My head is too full of confused and negative emotions that it finds it impossible to clear out for meditation. It’s a dark place inside my head and there is no room for clarity. 

As you get older, it gets easier to pretend. I’m at possibly the lowest I’ve ever been but you wouldn’t know from the outside. As you get older you learn how to hide it better. You learn how to keep the smile on the outside even if pieces of you are fading away and shedding. You learn to listen to other people better and drive conversation away from yourself. As you get older, you realise more and more that people aren’t hearing you when you say you’re struggling but you know nobody can fix it. 

They’re listening, but they’re not hearing. 

So, I’m alive but I’m not living anymore. 

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