Under the surface

I had an awesome day today, went out with friends, did interesting things, had good food and conversations.
On the surface.

Scratch the surface and it starts bleeding, like scabs on a wound. Under the surface is depression. Under the surface are tears, waiting for a moment, where I get to distracted to suppress them.

I like listening to conversations, even if it gets really hard to follow, when I'm tired or if there's too much noise around. I don't like joining in, because I don't like hearing my own accent.
It is still exhausting. I don't know if this will change. Communicating in a foreign language all the time feels a bit like trying to get used to thin air on a mountain. It's possible, but it doesn't really feel pleasant. You always feel like you're lacking something. You try to breathe but can't.

It's frustrating, that I don't understand and speak better than I do. I realise, very often I appear daft or simply not very funny, just because something was lost in translation.

When I looked into my tired face in the mirror this morning, all I wanted was, to crawl back into my bed.

But I don't want to give up. So I put on my brave face with the help of more makeup than usual, dressed up nicely and went out. I made it through this day and I was having as much fun as possible. It did not go very deep, but that's ok. I made an effort.

My life scares me. I'm too aware, that I am always just one step from catastrophe. I'd just need to lose my job and everything collapses. I feel cold and alone. I miss having someone I can talk to. It's nice having friends to do fun things with, but I really miss someone to talk an entire night through until the morning.

People keep telling me, I'm lovely and awesome. I don't feel like that. I feel old, lonely and pathetic.
I can be surrounded by happy, laughing people and all I hear is the ice breaking under my feet...