…is the mood swings.

I’m fine, feel that warm fuzzy feeling called happiness, go about life just fine. Guilt strikes for being okay, for having fun with my friends because shouldn’t I be more upset? We were dating for over five years. Is he still hurting? How can I be alright when it’s been such a short time? What is the appropriate amount of pain to suffer from losing the person you love to your inability to move half way across the country with no guarantee you won’t end up homeless? Of course, I can’t wallow in depression I reason with myself. I have to go work, to a job that reminds me just how far away from my dreams I’ve fallen. A job with a manager whose idea of ‘managing’ involves unnecessary lectures full of insulting repetition, lies and threats of job loss. The job he thinks I’d stay here for. Yet, it’s the safest place from the sweeping bouts of depression because you have to smile at the customers, and boy, do I smile. I get compliments on my upbeat personality and sunny smile almost every other shift. Sometimes it follows me home, and I’m fine again. I talk with my housemates and we make jokes, watch stupid movies and I have fun…

…and then I feel wretched and guilty.