Seeing things in Greyscale

I am almost never happy.

This is something I've just learned to accept over time. I don't even remember this being some grand inciting event or anything. I remember going on the few vacations my family could afford when I was younger and being annoyed that everyone else was seemingly enjoying themselves and were having a great time. I couldn't really understand it. It was neat, I guess, but I didn't feel any better on a personal level. Through trying to force myself to be more active and putting my all into things so as to feel anything beyond the typical grey malaise that dominated my existence. In doing so I simply ended up stressing myself out and making things even worse. My mouth would break out from stress-induced cold sores and I would develop debilitating panic attacks. So I stopped, and once I did these side effects went away but I felt no better.

I've come to learn that this is most likely caused because of a chemical imbalance, though I've yet to find a medication that solves this issue and with how expensive treatment is for minimal positive effects such an imbalance is likely to never be fixed. I still enjoy things, good food still brings me joy and I can look forward to people's presence but it all feels so... idk... muted I guess? My highest highs are equal to most people's baseline in a way that is difficult to put into words. It comes and go in severity but it seems to never go away. Some weeks I can barely work up the motivation to leave my room while others I can function just fine, though every waking moment is spent screaming inside of my head about how much whatever I'm doing sucks. I thought that such a mindset was a phase I would eventually grow out of, some teenage imbalance or something, but I'm nearly 24 now and it hasn't gotten any better.

Still, I feel awful even bringing it up to people for some reason? Like this blog post in particular is super difficult to write for some reason, like how I feel privileged to even be in the state of mind to speak about this? Like despite it all and multiple suicide attempts I'm still here while other people are dead from their personal issues, or starving, or are in inescapable horror day to day. Like I feel as if I'm begging for sympathy points or I'm trying to make everything about me like a selfish prick. I dunno, I can live with it and I guess that's the most I can ask for. I just wish I could be happy, or see things without this immense weight that sits upon my mind. Maybe that's wishful thinking. I'm just so tired of it. I don't even know what the point of this blog is. To clear the air? idk. fuck it.