as i am writing my common app essay, i couldnt help but think a lot. about my past and my future. i am never at the present, living in the moment.
things are distressing nowadays, with impending deadlines and the pressure from my parents to improve my symptoms. it’s a psychiatric disorder not a common flu. i cant sleep nor do i want to. but they are forcing me. and they wont listen to my explanations. i was so creative during my last depressive episode, writing poems and crafting arts. now i am dry as a sheet of nori, stranded with the explosive thoughts. like a nuclear reaction within my head, a container about to burst from the pressure.
i am just so tired and my mind is a mess. the words i typed arent exactly what i intend to say but it’s really difficult to put the emptiness in words. its a constant state of being. not a feeling; but a lack of thereof.
so many things to think about. when can i stop thinking? the only viable way is taking my own life, but the last aborted attempt made me felt worthless and i dont want to go through it again if i wasnt sure i can make it happen.
kind of thinking bout going back to my doctor, but i dont think i was sincere enough in the previous sessions and had fabricated a lot of lies about my condition. he is the best doctor in town, and i am ashamed to show that i have been doing worse. almost felt as if it was his fault. i am afraid he will take it that way. most likely he doesnt care but i cant stand the thought of being a burden to someone again.
my emotion is like a pot of soup made from leftover expired ingredients hiding deep within the refrigerator. nothing good, at all. waste.waste. waste.
where did my positive mindset go? i have taken so long to forge it i was convinced i had cured myself. but everything returned to square one again, and every time this happens it is always harder to get back on my feet. now id rather lay on the floor and never get back up.
i am so highly functional in front of everyone. my body and mind are polar opposite, a catastrophic contradiction. i am so convincingly alive that no one bother to check on me. unless they are aware and thought Oh just another episode of theirs, they will return to normal in no time.
i can go on and on. but it is an irony that the word counts are climbing higher and higher for this irrelevant post yet my college essays that actually mattered remained at zero. i am not my ambitious high achieving self. i am the hermit crab hiding behind the doors, sad lyrics taking over the commanding voices in my head. all i can think about now is the lyrics to life is beautiful by lil peep and sunflower by post malone. nothing else matter, apparently, except for these songs.
i go to sleep at night with two wishes in mind: to wake up feeling better, or to not wake up at all. murakami’s colourless tsukuru tazaki opened with the character admitting that if there was a door leading to death and you can walk right through it, he wont ever hesitate to do so. i liked the book instantly. it was recommended by a friend, whom told me the character reminded her of me. i can definitely see the deep resemblance, especially towards the constant preoccupation with death i have, just like tsukuru.
and more books and movies made sense to me in a disturbing way i couldnt walk up to anyone and say Hey look at it, thats how i feel, thats what i do. do you see how sick they are? now do you realize how sick i am? but i look so fine, dont i. people watch the movies and read the books and feel sorry for what the characters have to go through. now they stare past the real life where people are going through the exact same thing and pretended nothing was in front of them. sometimes i think its hard for people to wrap their head around just how tiresome it is to live with this kind of brain.
1 comment
I can’t really relate to this but I thought I’d let you know that I read it. It was insightful.