I seem to have done what I’ve been trying to avoid doing from the start.
My “writings” have completely turned into a place for me to lament, and not a place for me to give my thoughts and feelings about other aspects of my life.
I swear that I’m more interesting than this. At least I thought I was. Lately it’s become harder and harder to remember my life before all of “this.
” I can’t remember if there was actually more to what makes me me, or if I’ve always been this bland. By bland I mean not really having any substance to who I am.
I feel like there’s nothing redeeming about myself.
All I ever think about is my breakup and everything I’ve lost, or some fictional universe that I can escape to from the before mentioned heartbreak.
Once again I ask the question, before all of this, what else did I think about? What else was I? Before I become this shell of my past self?
Were fictional universes and stories the only thing that I thought about? I honestly can’t remember! I pray that there was more to me than just that.
Is my memory just that bad or has the pressure of this hardship just made me to delirious to think clearly?
It feels like it’s been ages since I met those girls, so when it’s hard for me to remember what I had for breakfast this morning,
you can imagine how hard is for me to remember who I was months ago.
A theory I have is that the reason why nerdy and guilty pleasures of mine have become dominant in my everyday activities and thoughts is because its a coping mechanism for myself.
Because if it wasn’t for this, then I honestly think I would have gone insane at this point. Either that, or I would be on a whole different plane of depression.
My biggest fear is that when I get over this shit, there’ll be nothing left of me but the scars of my trials to occupy my subconscious. That I won’t ever go back to being who I used to be.
And when I say “who I used to be,” I’m talking about the me that loved life and wasn’t afraid of what other people thought about me. My self confidence has gone way down.
I despise myself, and I worry about what other people think about me. Something that before I never really worried about.
Every time I glimpse at my reflection all I see is imperfections and my worst enemy. I see the motherfucker that’s putting me through this torture every single day.
And I see the pathetic fool that just can’t get over some high school drama to save his life.
Ever since the day I had my near breakdown in the hallway a few days ago, the act of moving class to class has gotten borderline stressful.
I fear walking through the halls because of the chance of seeing her in them. When I’m walking to my next class, I focus all of my being into trying not to look at anybody around me.
I’m tense and nervous at all times. Everytime I see her face, all of the progress that I’ve made to heal myself goes out the window.
My day is instantly ruined, and the new threat of having another “near breakdown” makes my determination to avoid her at all costs go through the roof. I’m in full defensive mode now.
The only way that I can restore what I’ve lost is by forgetting what happened, or at least making peace with it. And by seeing her in any way, shape or form makes this almost impossible.
When I graduate, I can finally move on from this completely. But I’ve still got roughly three months to go. I don’t know if I can go another three months of this! It legitimately scares me.
If this is how I feel after fourish months of this, imagine how bad I’ll feel after another two. I’ll be a zombie. The future scares me, reader. I fear for my self.
I fear what the future will do to me. This is truly one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through.
I pray that you never have to go through something like this, and that you try to understand how I feel.
I know all of the crying must be getting old, but just imagine how old it’s getting for me.