I’m the pins and the bowling ball is the range of feelings.
Sometimes it knocks me down one by one, but other times it’s a strike.
Today was a strike.
Nothing right, can’t think right, can’t feel right.
More empty than usual.
Correction, feeling more empty than usual, the sensation stronger.
I hate feeling like this, but I don’t know how to stop it. I want to feel okay, I want to be okay.
I wish it were a choice, like the million other things in life I could have a choice about. But this one thing that I don’t have a choice for dictates my thoughts and my feelings, in turn influencing my decisions. Ruling things to be in its favour, to feed its hunger but only to be left hungry.
I feel like a part of me is missing. I don’t know if something is actually missing or if it’s just the numbing feeling of anxiety and depression.
Anxiety from the fear of the future, of the uncertain, unpredictable.
Depressed because I can’t do anything. Nothing matters, no point.
I don’t fear death, I want to experience death. I want to experience pain. Pain anything other than this numbing loneliness inside.
I am not okay, but I can never seem to bring myself to say it.
I say it in my head when someone asks me “How are you?”
But my answer always comes out as,
“I’m doing well”
“Could be better, can’t complain”
“Not too bad”
Saying “I’m not okay” is only in my wildest dreams.
I fear what they will say, so I don’t venture.
Will they ask questions? Will they console? Will they tell me that I have no reason to be not okay? Will they try to one-up me on how they are less okay than me? Will they accept? Will they list all the things and reasons of why I should be okay? Will they relate?
I don’t want to know.
I don’t want to know what they will say or how they will respond when I don’t even know how I will respond.
I can’t even say that I’m not okay in front of a mirror. I can’t be honest with myself, only in my mind where everything is safe.
What is not spoken is not real.
Everyone thinks that I’m okay. Everyone thinks that I have no complaints.
Everyone thinks that I’m a soldier. Everyone thinks that I’m brave and compassionate.
And that’s what I want them to think, I don’t want to slip up.
I stare at myself when I pass by a reflective surface, I try not to because I don’t want people to think that I’m conceded, to think that I’m obsessed with myself. But I the reflection calls to me, I have to check, I have to see. I have to keep tabs on myself. I have to make sure that I look skinny enough.
I have to make sure that my legs are still thin and my arms still slim, my waist tiny, proper posture.
Keeping myself in check.
Be tall, be confident, be less of who you are in your mind.
I want people to know that I’m trying, trying to be okay.
But not right now, I’m not okay right now.
I don’t know what I need or what I want.
I want someone to talk to, but how can I expect someone else to listen when I can’t properly listen to myself. Maybe if I really listened to myself, I would know. Know what’s wrong with me, know what I need, know how to fix me. Find my cure.
On days like this I just want to blast music through the earphones, block everything out. Feel like I’m floating with no concept of time or space.
I want to lose myself in something and not find myself.