Life paths

I am trying to feel better, but I’m scared.
I am scared of genuinely feeling better and being okay, because I don’t know what that’s like.
I don’t know what it’s like to be okay.
I don’t know if I’ll be okay.
I am so used to feeling like this that this is the only reality I know of.
I often wonder if other people always feel like this. I wonder what it feels like to be them. I wonder what it is like to live a life where you don’t feel like this. I don’t really know if that even exists.
Maybe the people are better at covering it up and ignoring it better than me. Maybe that’s all it comes down to.
Maybe.

I have dips.
I go into my own spiral of bad thoughts and moods. I try to ignore it. I try to cover up, but it only makes me feel worse about myself.
I makes me just hate myself for not giving in.
A part of being strong makes me hate myself. I don’t know what to do about it.
So I give in. I starve, I go into a deficit of calories and nutrition.
I get a headache, but it still makes me exercise. Workout, be defined, be strong. But how, without any energy?
Go for a jog. Burn the extra fat. Stay up all night. Can’t sleep. Can’t wake up.
Be numb.

Push yourself.
Further. Faster.
Feeling okay is over-rated. And you don’t want to be over-rated.

I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know why I’m putting so much pressure on myself. I have nothing but support from everyone around. People who accept me for who I am. People who accept for at the stage of life I’m at. People who accept me with all my flaws and struggles. People who accept me. But not me. I can’t seem to do the same for myself that these people do for me, and I for them.
Putting pressure on myself to run more, to be more fit, to exercise more, to eat less, to find a better job, to study more, to know more, to do better.
Striving for perfection that doesn’t exist. A false reality that I’ve created for myself that I can’t seem to let go.
To be more independent. To be free. Carefree…
But I can’t seem to let myself go.

I just want to disappear. I’m not scared of no longer existing. Everything seems fake to me. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong everywhere. I’m tired of trying to find a place to fit.
My head hurts. Lack of food? Lack of fluids? Stress?
I hope for bad things to happen to me.
I want to be so close to death, almost taste it. And then maybe when I come back I’ll realize that I want to stay here. Have an epiphany.

Always anxious. Not knowing what to do.
I don’t want to talk to people, I don’t have anything to say, nothing to show for. I keep second guessing and doubting myself. I keep thinking that people don’t like me. I keep thinking that people have bad thoughts about me. I’m putting my bad thoughts about me into other people thoughts.
I just want to lay still and cry many of the nights and days.
But keeping a strong is the best I know to do. So I keep doing it.
I just want to do well.
I want to find my place in this world. What is it that I want to do.
What if I go into one field and figure out that I don’t like it, but what if I do like it?
I will never know unless I try it. Focus on one thing, and move on. Give it your best. Do your best.
One thing at a time, don’t try to do everything at once.
You know, keeping your options open is good, but a part of keeping options is so that you can choose one. If you never end up picking one, what’s the good of having options?
Just keep them open. Choose one, and when it doesn’t work out, you can always try the next.

Keep writing.
Don’t close off any roads.
Roads always intersect.
Do a U-Turn. Make a hard left or a soft right. A road is rarely just one way.

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