Mental Clarity & Perception

I don’t know if it’s a chemical imbalance, weak function, or misperception, but I feel error in my own thoughts. I will admit aloud I am in a depression, but in my mind I feel as though I’m lying. I don’t know what I’m feeling. But there’s no way to explain that to others. No one likes a miserable person so I avidly try to be better. But maybe that’s the problem. I try to be happier for the sake of others, because maybe their satisfaction in my being will be what makes me truthfully happy, a happy I can admit to myself. Some say it’s a mindset that you push upon yourself, self pity is a crime. Some say it’s something I can’t help, something I was born with. I believe that more, as I know my mind has always been like this. Yet I question my own beliefs regarding my own mind because others have made me doubt. They invalidate my feelings and put the blame on me, making me doubt if anything I feel is real or a figment of my pitiful imagination. I’ve recently reflected on how, out of habit, in my boredom I inflict metal discomfort upon myself. What I used to believe was a matter of self awareness and heavy regards to the situations I face, I now wonder if it’s the cause of my problems. I willingly think about the things that upset me in an “attempt to learn from my mistakes and create solutions”. I don’t know if Ive been lying to myself and others in hopes of masking this habit or if it’s a part of who I am. I am no longer secure in what I thought of myself to be. I’m not sure if I’m a good person. I’m not sure about much. I’m not even sure what I’m unsure about, all I know is that I know nothing I once thought I did. Have these people put my flaws into a perspective I was unable to see before, or have they misinterpreted my being and used it against me. I know for certain these aren’t my people and I shouldn’t take what they say with a heavy heart. But in pursuit of become someone I can be proud of I take every criticism as a piece of harsh advice I needed to hear. Everything has become so unclear. I don’t know what to listen to and what is true. I no longer long for the advice of my peers, as it has destructed my character before. Now I don’t know what to do. I have spent my whole life depended on those I looked up to. For advice, for inspiration, for a structure to mold my impressionable self to. Now I have become my own. I was proud of myself, one for becoming independent to those around me, and for my outlook and beliefs. Yet I have let that pride diminish as the negativity of others has seeped into the weak armpit I had built for myself. I spent time and energy building a barrier I had never had before. As it’s the first time I’ve built one I surely didn’t make the strongest one. But I was proud of it before it was broken. Next time I will be sure to use stronger material, tighten the screws, and weld it to my own body. But maybe this is what they talk about. I place the blame on my environment, blame them for breaking my shield, but maybe I did it myself. Maybe there was never one to begin with and I’m placing blame on innocent people that my ill perception has deemed as the “bad”. If there is “bad” am I it? All I’ve strived for is to be the “good” but maybe in doing so I followed paths mislabeled and lost my way. Lost myself on the way. But I know who I am, an image I’ve created in my own mind. I mind I now doubt. I doubt if I’m really who I think I am. But if I don’t know who I am, who would? Everytime is different. Everything is in the eye of the beholder. With this logic I can continue to be sure in my own mind, disregard how others view me. Yet that could be delusional. How does one know if they are good or bad. Yes, it’s a spectrum. But you’re only as good as what others say you are. When it really comes down to it, no matter what you think to do, your reputation is what will define you indefinitely. The word that travels down the line, your very being formed by the words of others. Yet again here I go blaming others. Blaming them for tainting my image when I am truthfully at fault. Perhaps I make art of my words to distract the viewer from the blood shed to paint the canvas. The master of deception. But how can that be truth if what I’m saying is the only thing I believe for myself. I may believe lies and wash them over the truth I yearn to find. In the end this is a coincidental act of proving the idea that I single-handedly distort the world around me, leading to an unjust judgement toward it. But how can I know if I’m distorting it when I could never see it clearly in the first place.