The Storm In My Mind

At times, I don’t want to be around people.

That feeling is more common than people admit, but the reason behind it matters a lot.

There’s a difference between:

Needing space to recharge (which is healthy), and wanting to withdraw from people entirely or often (which can signal something deeper).

More often than not, I feel better off unalive. I have envisioned my passing quite often. Anything I do is not good enough.

I feel that there are no options. No matter how much I try, it’s not good enough. The only reason I have not yet acted is the space between me and a bottle of drugs.

I feel used by people, and the relationships are based on what people can get from me.

These are times of my darkest thoughts. If I make it tomorrow, it is another day to survive.

There are still nights when the weight of everything feels unbearable—when the silence gets loud, and the thoughts return without warning. Nights simply making it to the next day feels like more than it should.

But I’ve come to understand something in those moments.

Surviving is nothing.

It may not look like progress. It may not feel like strength. But choosing to stay—when every part of you is tired, when your mind tells you there is no reason to—means something. More than most people will ever see.

I don’t have all the answers. There are still parts of my story that feel unfinished, parts of myself I am still trying to understand. And maybe that’s the truth of it—this isn’t a story about having it all figured out.

It’s about continuing, even when it doesn’t make sense.

Maybe tomorrow won’t be easier. Maybe the questions will still be there. But as long as I am here, there is still something unwritten.

And for now, that must be enough. Surviving another day is all I can do.

Written By: Greg MD