Not Contented

I just came from a friend’s birthday party. They are this happy family. And she is this happy person. And I could see she’s happy. And I feel it. And… I envy her.

Why would I? I’m not really happy. No. That’s not the right term. Hmm… not contented? Yes. I’m not contented with my life. Not the type that I would ask for those material things or such. I’m ok with the money I get, with the things I have or something like that. The thing I lack is contentment in how my state is.

Just like what I said in my yesterday post, I feel imprisoned. I don’t know if going out of this house and roaming around places would solve that. I haven’t tried it. But I wish that could solve it ‘cause this definitely makes me depressed in some way.

I don’t know my own self. It’s really hard if you don’t even know yourself. Don’t be silly. Of course, I know who I am. I know my name, not totally but almost most of my personality, things I like and hate, and whatever basic things. But I can’t help but feel that there’s still something lacking in me. As if I’ve only known this small piece of me and the rest of it is in the darkness and I can’t really see it or feel it, as if it’s not there but you know there something in there. Get my point? And not knowing that just makes me feel not knowing myself. And it somehow makes me feel lost. It’s really terrifying. It makes me feel weak to the point of being nothing.

It’s as if I have no freedom. It’s as if I’m being held by something I don’t really know. I really do want to be free of it but I don’t know why. It’s depressing.

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