Your Mind Is a Dangerous Place To Get Lost In

I never recovered from August 2016.


My grandfather passed away and I was halfway across the world in Beijing when he was being buried with our family around him. I felt a unique level of grief, something I don’t think I could ever illustrate through conversation still. I remember not being able to stand myself. Cloud and smog was the greatest setting for this monologue.

I remember being a cynic a person who believes that people are motivated purely by self-interest rather than acting for honourable or unselfish reasons.

Walking into a party and hoping it gets shut down while hoping the percentage of this bottle doubles. One friend pressuring me to talk to a girl they barely know and the other asking me if I can get them an Uber home. I’ve sat in this chair for more than 24 hours because I didn’t want to look away from the light of a computer. Waking up locked in a gaze with your ceiling, preparing yourself for the disappointment of the day.

People asked me questions but never heard me speak.

I am forever blessed because there are many people in my position who don’t share my ambition. I could list off all of my creative outlets but they all led me to the same destination; happiness. Something I have had for a long time and strive to make a permanent fixture in my life. Creativity in social situations and professional environments instead of in my head and on paper. Peers relying on me for connections and networks for the betterment of themselves. Waking up feeling ready and motivated about my dreams and how I can and will make them a reality.

People asked me questions but never heard me speak.

I think people ultimately knew that I wasn’t in a good place at some stage, but decided to leave it at that. No one ever asked me the questions they couldn’t answer; instead they answered it themselves.

Some assumed I was depressed because of stress and university.

Some assumed I wore sweatpants because I was poor.

Some assumed I was poor because I was from Kaitaia.I bet if I asked now, those same people would assume they would have had to ask for me to tell my story.

I think I could tell you all of the misconceptions people had about my mental health and my emotions and what they meant to me. What I couldn’t tell you is what I was feeling, because nobody had the balls to ask. My mind was never faced with the task of illustrating what I felt or conversing with someone about my emotions. The lack of conversation led me into never getting over my best friend’s death and accelerated my journey into getting lost in my own mind.

The mind is a dangerous place to get lost.

Kii Small