Sometimes I have these feelings, and these things that I want to say - but I don't know where or how to begin. And I'm scared. Scared because I've tried so hard to show the world how happy I am. How strong I am. How well I'm coping with, well, life in general.
I tell people that I can't help that I'm amazing. I project confidence. I strive to be the best at everything I do. It annoys me when I'm not, but even then, I smile and push my way through.
I cover my walls (both in real life, and in cyber-life) with quotes, and sayings that I trick myself into believing will be my new mantras. I tell myself to 'take time to find me' and not to worry, 'be happy' and that 'things will be okay in the end, and if they're not, then it's not the end.' I hope that if I repeat them long enough, they'll stick.
I shop lots. For things that I don't need, and quite often, don't really want.
I eat lots. Not because I'm hungry, just because.
I train lots. I like the way the tired makes me feel.
I bake lots. This started fairly recently and I don't know why.
When people ask me how I am, I always tell them something along the lines of 'Yeah...good!' or 'Yeah...I'm doing well!' or 'I really can't complain!'
And that's the thing. I don't feel like I should complain, because honestly, I know my life really isn't bad. I have a supportive family and amazing friends. I've got no bills to pay, I'm in good health and I've got barely any responsibilities. I've got a roof over my head and a warm bed to sleep in. I have excess of anything I could ever need. And yet I still find myself wanting.
I have often told friends that if I weren't me, then I'd think that I was weird. Sometimes I'm socially awkward and my sentences don't come out right. I have these brain farts and say strange things or lag between responses. I slur words and have to start over again.
I over analyse every conversation I've ever had with anyone. I go over scenarios again and again in my head. This is the worst when I'm speaking to people that I don't know that well, and who don't know me that well. I fear their judgement. I've got the paranoids about offending people and I'm constantly scared that people don't or won't like me. I tell myself that I don't give a fuck what other people think about me and rationally, I know I really shouldn't. But the fact is I do,
I HATE the thought of people thinking that I'm weak. I hate pity. I hate the idea of not being able to handle things. To handle myself. So I push through. And I just keep pushing.
But sometimes, the pushing gets so friggin' tiring.
Positivity gets hard to hold on to and all I want to do sometimes is spaz out and cry. I hesitated to write that last sentence just then, because I hate the thought of people thinking about me crying. The visual might make them pity me or perceive me as weak, and gosh, I'd hate that. I've spent so long trying to prove otherwise, and here I am, undoing all my hard work.
But I'm exhausted. And anxious. Full of this unexplainable anxiety that makes me incredibly uncomfortable. And I don't know what to do, but to write about it, in hope that it'll release me, and I it.
***
A few nights ago, I had a dream about you. In the dream, we were happy. The way we once were. I was leaning on you and the sun was shining on your face as I stared up at it. You smiled at me and I saw that shininess in your eyes that I had once loved so much.
I woke up from that dream smiling. And then as I realised that it was just that - a dream- my heart ached for what had been lost.
And then I found some photos of us while cleaning my room. The snaps of moments frozen in time brought back all of these old memories - happy, shiny memories.
But things hadn't been that way for a while. And I know things can never be like that again. Still, it makes me both happy and sad to think about it.
Nostalgia's a funny thing.
