A foreign language is a dialect that one is unfamiliar with. Some take classes to learn the beautiful way that others around the world speak. But not me, I learn from a woman named Melanie. Who isn’t a teacher, professor, or a friend, but a stranger that once every week I tell her every detail of my life so she can teach me the terminology of emotions and what they feel like. Other than empty or numb it’s hard for me to feel much but the little that I do feel is the worst feelings. And on those Wednesdays; Melanie describes these words, what they're supposed to feel like, and how to open the doors that I’ve locked in my brain preventing me from ever feeling. I’ve learned these terms but I can’t bring myself to crack open my door. For instance “calm” is not feeling nervous. Melanie says that I can use percentages for the probabilities of my irrational thoughts that contribute to my anxiety or nervousness. Yet no matter what I have the confusing mumbled words going a mile per minute that is telling me what will go wrong whatever the odds. Then there’s “confidence” a feeling of self-assurance, Melanie says, to achieve you have to not care what everyone thinks. But how is that possible when all my broken little shriveled up heart wants is for someone to look me in the eyes and tell me that I am good enough because I have never been and I want to be able to believe them. Furthermore “content” is being satisfied with life and not wanting more. “To be content is to see everything that you want is right in front of you and all you have to do Alyssa is take off the blindfold you keep putting on yourself,” Melanie observed. Even if I were to take off this blindfold I wouldn’t see what I want, I would see what others want but I simply am lucky enough to have. But I would trade everything I own to smile and mean it for once. Lastly, “happiness” the state of being happy. “If you have the right people around you could get lost in the moment and smile and laugh like you mean it. If you’re too busy being happy you can forget about being depressed for a minute,” Can you guess who said that? I can’t remember the last time that I smiled or laughed without wanting to burst into tears because I knew that it was fake, but everyone else thought it was real. Happiness is something that every day I crawl in absolute agony pining for just a moment without my depression getting in the way. The foreign language that I want to know is one that people learned when they were brought into this thing we call life, but unlike me, they didn’t forget it.