They tell us to pick ourselves up when we're down. Thing is, I don't even know if I was standing in the first place. I can recognize when I am indeed on the ground, and I do manage to return to my original point, but I don't know if that's even really standing. I don't feel fantastic ever really. I rarely ever can push my insecurities aside. I never feel good enough for anything. So am I standing? Am I just waiting for someone to take the blindfold off of my eyes so I can realize it? I feel blind, just reaching out for things so I can tell where I am, yet hesitant in case I hurt myself. There's always a constant reminder of pain. I can't get rid of it. It's both a blessing and a curse. It almost ruins every positive situation, but I won't be half as hurt as I should be once it's gone. It seems as though I'm crouching with one hand on the ground and one outstretched above me. I'm always seeking happiness or a hand to pull me up, yet reminding myself of where the ground is and what it feels like. I feel as if it is unnatural to hang onto all of this unnecessary sorrow, depression, sadness. I don't even understand where it comes from. I've never been hurt by anyone emotionally, or physically for that matter. So is it just a defense against stabbing pain? Or is it a monster beckoning me into the darkened depths, waiting to swallow me whole?