Isn’t “used to” such a complex, depressing structure?
I used to smile… I used to have fun… I used to be happy…
But now I’m not any of those. Now… I struggle. And the more I struggle, the more I realize “used to” is an awful structure that seems to be stuck with me like a chewing gum on the soles of my new shoes.
And it’s not only that, it’s also the lack of joy I try to comprehend. I used to be the soul of the party… Or was that a simple mask I wore, in order to hide my true self?
One thing is for sure though. The more I spend my time trying to get to the bottom of my depression and anxieties, the more confused I become.
It’s like wandering aimlessly through an empty, dark hall, with no exit and no sourse of ligh. Darkness sorrounds you until you also become it.
And there are so many reasons to be happy with life, so many. But they seem to play like an old film strip before my eyes and I am incapable of reaching them, of touching them… Of feeling them.
An empty carcass, void from happiness.