I’m constantly panicking. About everything.
Everything worries me.
There’s a niggle in my brain telling me all sorts, and the paranoia I get over some simple things is, quite simply, astounding. Well, it astounds me anyway. Enough to make me stop what I’m doing and just want to either:
a) hide in a cave by myself
b) rock back and forth, gently, all whilst muttering silently to myself.
I get it; it’s not a healthy habit.
So tell me again: why am I sat here, avoiding revision, avoiding lots of very bad things, avoid lots of very good things, and feeling my skin is on fire, like I would claw it off if I could (and trust me, sometimes I have tried), and feel like if I move, the world will come crashing down and I will drown because of my own breathing?
I can’t walk down the street by myself without breaking into sweat, often. And it’s not because of the heat, because it’s cold and damp right now. I often have to mutter things under my breath or hum to get me from location A to B. It is a little bit disconcerting for the people walking past me but, hey ho, they will probably never see that really weird girl ever again. I’m just a passing shadow who is uncomfortable in her own body. I feel like my limbs are excessive to me, like my being is surplus to my mind, and like my mind is the most foul thing which needs to be vanquished. But, these thoughts aren’t supposed to be a thing. Nope. I’m supposed to be happy and intelligent and thoughtful and rational and…and…and. More.
I’m supposed to be more.
But I feel like I am more than I am and I don’t want that extra. I don’t want any of it.
I want to be the least I can be, until I almost disappear.
And I don’t like feeling things which make me realise that I am complicated, because it hurts my brain and my soul and everything. And I wish I could de-soul myself. I want to be reduced to being forgotten. And people try and tell me that I am wrong for feeling like this.
It just makes me feel like my skin is peeling off me and you should know that, right now, I feel like I’m burning up with the stress and tension of existing. Forget the atrocities of the world for a second (because once they are added into the mix, can you really stand living?).
Think about looking in the mirror and literally not recognising yourself. Not feeling human. You disassociate yourself from your body. I am typing on this laptop and I feel somewhat disgusted by the fact that I apparently have arms because I want to disown them. They are feeling weird and tingly. I know it’s strange, but it’s what I am.
I don’t recognise myself.
It’s absurd, and it’s unwelcome. And if anyone can convince me how to calm down, I will almost certainly look forward to your advice.
I don’t need to live like this but I do and I am tired, tired, tired.