Do you ever get to a point where you are asking yourself the same question over and over again? What is that for you? What is the thing playing non stop in your head driving you insane?
It’s gotten to the point for me that I don’t really know what direction I’m going or where I want to go. I have so many things on my list that I want to accomplish, but they’re all jumbled together. I can barely keep a thought straight in my head for more than a minute.
I cry every day. Sometimes for something and sometimes for nothing. It doesn’t really make sense to me. The smallest thing could set me off. A fleeting thought could run through my mind and unravel my whole day.
I ask myself what am I doing? What the hell is going on in my life that I feel this much uncertainty and anxiety? The constant flighty feeling. I just want to run and hide and not deal with the world for just one god damn minute.
Nothing feels right. Everything feels like it’s against me. I feel trapped and too free at the same time. Constricted and not. I don’t want a destination, I just don’t want to feel like I have something to run from all the time.
I think I sleep alright, but I am exhausted by the time I wake up. I barely eat despite meal prepping. I go to the gym and work myself to death in the hopes I can finally go to bed and have a dreamless sleep.
I feel empty inside. Where I had so much desire for things and people it’s beginning to fade. I either want to fuck everything on two legs or I want to lay in bed and die. My brain doesn’t give me a chance to really decide what option I want more.
I look in the mirror and still hate the person staring back at me. I barely recognize her. She’s a stranger to me. I feel like someone else when I talk to my family and lie and tell them how great everything is. Yeah, the job is great. Yeah, the place is fine. Yes, I love my apartment. No, everything is fine and great.
Robotic. I feel like I just go through the day with a million thoughts, but nothing solid. Just synapses firing with no connections. Wake up, eat, work, eat, work, go to the gym, shower, sleep. Sometimes there are mundane tasks between, but for the most part it’s all the same.
I lay in bed most mornings and dread the day. I don’t want to walk across the hall and sit in my tiny office and stare at screens until my work day is done. I hate everything and nothing. I just want it to end.
I’ve long given up on the idea that I can have a happy normal life and yet it’s something I crave more than anything else. Why can’t things work out the way you want? Does everyone feel this way? Or is the Universe choosing to play a sick prank on me?
It doesn’t seem fair that I would have to endure this much suffering when my life has barely gotten started. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but I truly feel like no one cares about me really. People have their own lives to worry about. If I can put on a mask and pretend maybe I can fool them.
It’s a loaded question to ask me how I’m doing. Most people who know me closely know that I’m not alright. They know I’m struggling and they can’t do anything about it. So they feel bad for asking.
I don’t know how to save myself. Most days I want to just drown and get it over with. If I just let go what would happen then? Not like it would really matter. I’m just one woman in a big city. No one would notice..
One day after another. The same theme. Get through it and maybe it’ll be better next time. What the fuck am I doing? If I’m being honest, I have no fucking clue. Maybe none of us do. At least now you know you aren’t alone.