“it’s okay”
“that’s alright”
I find her saying this quite a few times; and I wonder how many
times and to how many people she has being saying this all her life. To people
who somehow screwed her up.
You know what is ‘depression’?
Naah… not that ‘I’ll die’, hundred pills, sleeplessness,
pessimism, hate. Depression is not when you are clearly sad, it’s something
that is inside. Sometimes the person is happy, talking, sleeping, loving and
still, you know, they don’t seem lively. I don’t know if that is depression but
it is surely something next to it.
And she feels that. She feels this thing; ‘being absolutely fine
and not okay’. I feel it that she feels this.
You heard about that half empty and half-filled theory? That
pessimist sees it as half empty and optimistic sees it a half full. She is that
kind of person to whom if I ask this question, she’ll give me a fifteen minutes
long lecture on life philosophy and how we are grateful to have a glass and
there is something in it. That how wonderful is the idea that it’s never always
half empty or half full, it’s refillable.
Yeah, that girl is good at that. But then at times, when she is
not in a good mood she’ll be like “just pour the water in the smallest glass
and then it will be sooooooooooo much water that it will be full and even flow
out, so just stop asking! ”
For me every time we talk casually or deeply; there’s a look in
her eyes, the state in her mind that is something I was never sure of and I
won’t be ever, I guess. Some 10 years later when I’ll meet her she’ll still
look up to me with the same look and I ‘ll not be sure then too. Even though
she says a lot to me, sometimes it feels she isn’t telling me anything even
when she is telling everything and that scares me.
Because whatever she isn’t telling me, it can be good and it can
be bad. I used ‘and’ not ‘or’. It can be good AND it can be bad. To be honest
sometime it feels she has this never settling desire to associate her with all
the suffering and pain. Every day she smiles she remembers the times she did
not or whatever. Her immovable desire to be sad is what bothers me. I think she
has read tragedies so often that she even fears to let her life be happy. What
does not hurt is not life to her. But I know that what hurts will slowly eat
her up. She does not tell me what she feels, but we talk and the little pain
she gets from not telling me is what makes her feel she’s living. And I even
fear the day she’ll tell me what she feels because that might be the last time
I’ll see her before she’ll cut off to be in her pain.
I am myself caught a bit in this ugly situation right now. And I
think the time you are sad or upset is not your helpless times but when you
don’t even know what to feel exactly because one feeling makes you happy and the other
makes you sad, that is pissy.
she does not say anything, i don’t ask her anything and I see, I
imagine the day we'll have to see each other for the last time, for a long time ; We will
be left with 'I could have', 'I should have', 'I would have' and all that
regrets. I won't say courage; but I feel still I don't have enough 'life'
to make her happy or something. And you know what?
love or something, hate or whatever, happiness or anything. These
'something', 'whatever', 'anything’ are what she rarely, clearly tells me
and these are some words that hide a whole different ''minutiae'‘.
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