To say the least, this year has been an absolute shitfest. I am convinced that the world hates me. If not, then why is it that I constantly find myself in situations that leave me feeling all these horrid negative emotions? It definitely got worse in the second half (of the year). Hell, it all went downhill from May. Since then I have felt nothing but heightened anxiety and sadness. I lead every day second-guessing everything and making up the worst scenarios in my head because I don’t want to relive them again. I’ve had enough. The whole of June, I laid in bed trapped by the fear of something tragic happening in the night. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart against my ribs. I ended up suffering from insomnia for the whole month. But hey, I pretended to not know the reason for my poor sleep. Spoiler alert: I did. And sometimes my heart is suddenly inundated and heavy for no reason at all. I just get this pang in my chest and I start thinking about all the bad things in my life right now. Man, holding tears in public is no easy feat. There was once I cried on the bus home.
Everyone around me always looks so happy and free. They have their own nice lives, they’re doing so many things out in this world, they’re studying hard, they’re having so much fun hanging out with their friends, they’re getting boyfriends and girlfriends and living out their own youthful romance. They have fun with their siblings. I hear people talk about their siblings, how they do fun activities together. I hear about how their siblings have all gone to university, lead their own lives. And somehow, that hole in my gut grows wider. I find myself at the brink of knowing and unknowing every day. I am envious of them. I want a sibling I can count on. I want to know that I have someone to talk to and feel safe with. I want to live a life free of worries.
All around me, I see friends with actual functional family relations. “Oh, my dad is picking me up”, they say. I am ever so tempted to say, “Hey, my dad is picking me up too.” I wish I had the privilege of growing up with a present figure in my life. My mom is great. But sometimes I kinda hoped little me had a dad to talk to, you know?
I don’t think I’ve really genuinely felt happy for a while now. I smile, yeah, but all my monsters come running back. I so desperately want to unravel them with someone, but I am a coward.
I dread coming home every day. I used to sprint home at any opportunity I got. Now I find myself purposely dragging out the time I spend in school just so that I can stay out a while longer. Home is where I should feel secure (In a mental sense? Not physical). I don’t feel relaxed. I find myself putting on a show for them to see, to hide the fact that I am crumbling underneath. Because if I do, I know all my feelings will get worse.
I wonder what my friends would have to say if they ever knew. Maybe I’ll bear witness to the pity in their eyes. Sometimes I think about how nice it would be if I ceased to exist. Or what if I had been another dimension. I think in that one, I’d be happy.
I find myself thinking a lot about the future. How will things change? How will I handle all my burdens and responsibilities? In that future, I probably won’t have a life of my own. And that I’m scared of. I want to hang out with friends into the late night. I want to go on international adventures with friends. I want to indulge myself in romance. But I can’t. Not in that future. Sometimes I imagine a different future, one where I am free to frolic in the fields. And I really hope that comes true. But I catch myself before I get too deep in those thoughts. Inhumane.
F_ck this. I just want to run away, climb up the tallest building and give this f_cking world the largest middle finger. I am so tired.
Sorry if all this is so cryptic and out of context. I’ve been bottling this in for a good half a year and yet I’m still too much of a chicken to give full details. Makes everything too real.