Life seems hectic lately, though if I were to compare it to times I've had before it's not. I'm very tired, but at least mostly in a good mood. Kind of.

I'd formed this ability to observe my own depression and mood swings as if in the third person a long while back... and lately, for whatever reason, I've decided I'm going to observe all of it in the third person. Some fairly severe events led me to do that.

Now I have to do the ridiculously painstaking and all by itself depressing task of deciding whether or not I like what I see. I've never liked myself. I've been a brain-damaged, depressed, and occasionally suicidal person for a long time. I pride myself on the control I like to pretend I have. Sometimes, I know it's not really true. Sure, I can always walk away when I know I'm being absurd... but... I can only control my reaction to it. I wonder when that stopped being enough for me.

I get tired of hearing people tell me that it'll be alright. But at the same time, I hurt the worst when nobody's around to say it.

I put a mark on my body, for various reasons. Many of which only one other person in the world ever needs to know. It's something that nobody can take away from me, and it represents something I can never deny. It belongs there.

But do I really belong here?