It’s 1.25 am, so this post might not be articulate, and my thoughts might not be coherent. But I just realized that I haven’t posted in almost a month or two, and that’s not nice. It’s hard to write about the inability to write, but sometimes it’s necessary.
I started this year and I wanted to feel great about it, but honestly I didn’t. I was like oh here’s another year of me just continuing with the terrible things that happened last year. I was not with it, not at all. But I wanted to be optimistic,and be happy and enjoy winter (regardless of seasonal depression).
I really wanted this to work. I really did, and life was just like:
It’s not that anything worse has happened. But I feel overwhelmed by existing. I remember last year I told my friend that I want to go to a place where I do nothing. Just float, like no talking to people, no eating, no dressing up or going out, just floating.
But that can’t happen. And it’s overwhelming. I feel like everyday when I wake up, the amount of control I have over my life is slipping. And I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s very valid. I’ve lost all track of time, which means that deadlines for classes and tests creep up on me.
I’ve stopped talking to people and replying messages because the thought of telling people about my 24/7 drab existence is disgusting. My friends may or may not read this but my excuse is always that I’ve been busy with school. And at the same time I can’t even focus on school because it’s just too stressful.
The strangest thing about this situation is how the tiniest things can trigger me into another existence. I’ll be living life normally, and then I can’t find a sock and I have a breakdown. With a full blown panic attack and tears and shouting.
So I guess because of all that I can’t write, because the words don’t flow or refuse to flow. My brain is so preoccupied with how to make sure that we (me, myself and I) actually move from day to day with no casualties.