I’m writing a best man speech in between fits of depression. It’s an interesting process. If I weren’t the one going through it, I’d be fascinated by the alternating moments of sincere sentimentality and distance. Then I wonder if I’m faking the entire thing. Maybe I’ve read too much descriptive philosophy and I’ve become the impartial observer. It’s so strange being aware of things. When you start consciously thinking, “this is where I should feel loved.” Isn’t that supposed to just be felt?
I don’t have much of a choice. I have to write this speech and I mean everything I’m saying. I’m hoping to hold on to that integrity at least. It does feel a bit like putting on a fake smile, though. I know I’m happy for my friend, but I don’t feel all that happy.
I feel okay. I keep imagining a break from everything would fix this but I know it’s not true. It’s just something I tell myself to feel worse apparently.
I look forward to seeing my friends this weekend. The anxiety is rough but it’s normal and manageable. I’ll see how it feels right before the speech though. I’ve always been horrible at them. Last presentation I gave in paleobiology I was slightly shaking the entire time. I made it through alive though so I must keep that in mind. I won’t explode. Repeat until it sinks in.