Пятиминутка ангста

[elian]

По-английски и полная чушь. Через 20 минут меня отпустит и это покажется абсолютной фигнёй.

The Winchester Way

All my life, however little that is (seriously - 20? - not so old and wise, self) I lived by a simple assumption that a problem is only a problem if you can't bury it deep enough to cover it up with wise-cracks. Sometimes I'm better at it, sometimes worse, but my default answer to questions about my well-being is 'I'm always fine'. Even to my closest friends. I know it's annoying, and I know sometimes they feel hurt because I won't share things with them, but every time I try I end up crying or wanting to cry, for the stupidest reasons. And it's not like I think they'd turn me away or laugh at me. It's just - stupid. And who the fuck does that? You don't go around bawling in front of people just because you want them to pat you on the back and tell you how great they think you are. It's pathetic and manipulative. And it's not like I have any real reasons for feeling lonely or depressed. I'm not Dean Wichester. The fate of the world does not rest on my shoulders. I don't have PTSD symptoms coming out of my ears. I'm a person that doesn't have any objective reason for feeling unhappy.

So yes, I'll cover it up as long as I possibly can. And smile at you. And joke. And I'll function with various degrees of success but you'll never know if I'm failing, I promise, except for these five minutes of angst I myself attribute to spring, exhaustion, and lack of vitamins. That's the Winchester way.