peaceful and content. Happy to sit and read, or sit and watch TV, or go for a walk, or have a conversation. These are wonderful moods.
Sometimes I am bored and nothing can satisfy me. I have no interest in literature, in film, in the outdoors, or in anyone who happens to talk to me. These are frustrating moods.
Sometimes I feel beautiful and I don't mind people seeing how beautiful I am.
Sometimes I feel as though I am trying to be beautiful, but am failing, and everyone can see that not only am I not beautiful, but that I dared to try to be beautiful.
Sometimes I just feel ugly, but okay with it. I don'd mind people seeing my ugliness.
Sometimes I feel ugly, and I am ashamed.
Sometimes I am sad, but willing to smile at people and try my best. These are adequate moods, and possibly the most frequent ones.
Sometimes I am sad because of sadness, because I see so many terrible things in the world and I can't do anything about them. I am so sad that I cry and I feel like nothing will ever change, nothing will ever get better.
Sometimes I am sad because others are happy, and for some reason I can't manage to be happy even though I have no excuse to be sad. My life is more okay than a lot of other people's. I should be happy, but I can't be. So I am even more sad.
Sometimes I am confused and flustered because people look at me and talk to me and ask me questions and I don't know what to do. It gets difficult to breathe and I try to hide. These are dangerous moods, scary moods.
Sometimes I am angry, usually at myself. But because I can't fix myself, I start to get angry at everyone else too because I am just frustrated. I lash out at people even though they've done nothing wrong, and then I feel guilty and get even angrier at myself.
Sometimes I hurt so badly that I don't care anymore and I become reckless. I want to cut away my pain, drown it in alcohol or chocolate, physically beat it out of my brain. I want to throw myself away however I can in an effort to not be me anymore, because who I am disgusts and shames and disappoints me that I just want to be someone else.
Sometimes I hurt so badly for so long that I want to die, to go to sleep forever. To lay down on the floor and never get up. I'll think about the ways this could happen, the things that could bring this about. I get scared and stop thinking about it. These are dangerous moods, scary moods.
Sometimes I am indescribably happy, somehow able to see the rainbows and the little glint of light in the darkness. I want to spread this happiness, so I do. I want to live, so I do. I want to do everything, so I do.
Sometimes I don't want to talk about myself, because I don't want people to freak out. I don't want to go back to the psych ward, so I don't talk about the occasional, fleeting thoughts of suicide. I don't talk about how badly I want to hurt myself. I don't talk about my problems and insecurities because I believe no one can do anything about them, so what's the point?
Sometimes I am brave, and want to talk about myself. I want to share my story and accept help, and to lend help when I can. I want to turn my pain into beauty, to become a phoenix rising from ashes. I don't want to be a broken reed.
Sometimes I am sad.
Sometimes I am happy.
Sometimes I am.
Sometimes I am not.