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Invisible Princess

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  1. This feeling (whatever it is) has crept up on me today and I just don't have the motivation to want for it to go away. I'd prefer to just drift from myself and wallow in it. And just exist without existing, feel without feeling. Does anyone else experience this feeling of wanting to not be a part of themselves but to just disconnect?
  2. This is a beautiful sentiment but I definitely feel bound to the perspective and have done for a while now. All I ever want from these posts are kind and beautiful words as I hope my attempt at them helps others. I hope they don't come across as affection seeking.
  3. Thank you for your reply. Just out of interest what makes you think I have lots of insite and on what exactly? It's nice to know I'm not the only one who doesn't feel sad enough to be sad.
  4. 29/5/17 I can sit and watch the world go by without even seeing it. I can look at my reflection in the mirror and not recognise the person staring back at me. I can feel both so much and so little all at the same time, yet I can't feel what those feeling are trying to tell me. I couldn't tell you what's going on in my brain, or which type of chemicals are flowing in my bloodstream to induce some feeling. But it takes so little to bring me crashing back down to reality. Then everything returns to normal. I smile, I laugh, I feel... My friends and family take me back to a life of normality and I can live it without even thinking about that girl who is unsure about anything and everything. But all that does is make me question. Everything. I cannot help but look back in the mirror and in my reflection all I see is a girl making excuses. A girl who is just ungrateful for all the opportunities she's been given, and the opportunities she's wasting. There's a spark in her eye that hasn't quite gone out yet, a spark from not too long ago, but far enough away that it seems like an eternity to her. She occasionally feels the spark ignite further and it warms her to new ideas, encourages her to work harder, live more in reality. But the spark never quite becomes a flame to fuel her. She eventually loses sight of it again, and she becomes dark again, with no light to guide her. She wastes away her chances and time like she has an infinite amount, but she isn't stupid. So one feeling she does have left is regret. Regret for everything she knows she is capable of yet cannot seem to reach. Whilst she plans her future one step at a time she is already preparing herself to see it blown away at a pace she cannot keep up with, she chases it everyday, but its always one step ahead. Her blind faith keeps her running but with little hope she doesn't see how she will ever catch up. She doesn't see how she can be blown along with her dreams and fly away with them. She just sees the ground... She hears voices that say they don't want to do this anymore. They're too tired from running everyday. It's been at least a year, with very few day for rest and recuperation. The voices tell her she should just give up, but she doesn't believe in that. All she wants is to remove herself from herself, to just be without being, feel without feeling.
  5. Invisible Princess

    She

    29/5/17 I can sit and watch the world go by without even seeing it. I can look at my reflection in the mirror and not recognise the person staring back at me. I can feel both so much and so little all at the same time, yet I can't feel what those feeling are trying to tell me. I couldn't tell you what's going on in my brain, or which type of chemicals are flowing in my bloodstream to induce some feeling. But it takes so little to bring me crashing back down to reality. Then everything returns to normal. I smile, I laugh, I feel... My friends and family take me back to a life of normality and I can live it without even thinking about that girl who is unsure about anything and everything. But all that does is make me question. Everything. I cannot help but look back in the mirror and in my reflection all I see is a girl making excuses. A girl who is just ungrateful for all the opportunities she's been given, and the opportunities she's wasting. There's a spark in her eye that hasn't quite gone out yet, a spark from not too long ago, but far enough away that it seems like an eternity to her. She occasionally feels the spark ignite further and it warms her to new ideas, encourages her to work harder, live more in reality. But the spark never quite becomes a flame to fuel her. She eventually loses sight of it again, and she becomes dark again, with no light to guide her. She wastes away her chances and time like she has an infinite amount, but she isn't stupid. So one feeling she does have left is regret. Regret for everything she knows she is capable of yet cannot seem to reach. Whilst she plans her future one step at a time she is already preparing herself to see it blown away at a pace she cannot keep up with, she chases it everyday, but its always one step ahead. Her blind faith keeps her running but with little hope she doesn't see how she will ever catch up. She doesn't see how she can be blown along with her dreams and fly away with them. She just sees the ground... She hears voices that say they don't want to do this anymore. They're too tired from running everyday. It's been at least a year, with very few day for rest and recuperation. The voices tell her she should just give up, but she doesn't believe in that. All she wants is to remove herself from herself, to just be without being, feel without feeling.
  6. 27/10/16 Right now I'm ok. Its half term, I'm not breaking down almost everyday, no one is making me cry. Yesterday my amazing friends took me out for a birthday dinner, I'm going on holiday on Monday. Nothing could be better, or could it? I guess even though I'm telling myself I'm fine, I am still questioning it constantly. After all, today, Thursday, is the first day I've done any schoolwork. Partly because I was on holiday till tuesday evening, but also because I couldn't make myself do it. But that just sounds so pathetic, it sounds like such an excuse. But the problem is. I think it's true. But I don't know what to do. What can I do? How do I fix this? I've had long enough, it's not like this is the first time. It's not like this is new. It's not. Help.
  7. 18/10/16 I can't stand my own complaining anymore. I'm sick of the, "I'm tired", "I've had enough", or the "I'm done with". I just want everything to start making sense, to feel like I'm making progress towards university, towards anything. I really want to talk to someone. Really. I do. But there's something inside of me that won't let me. The voice that narrates my life, the one that says "You're not good enough", "There's nothing 'wrong' with you. You're just useless". The word 'You' goes from being an almost meaningless pronoun, to loaded with such negative connotations. Except I'm the only one that sees them. Everything is starting to ache, I'm not sure if its just because I'm physically ill, or because my mind is starting to slow down. Slowing to such a pace that I don't want to do anything anymore. I have no motivation for work, revision, attempts to understand. Despite the fact that's all I really want. To understand my work, but also to understand something with a little more importance. Me.
  8. 17/10/16 The truth is I'm overwhelmed, and I've had enough. I don't know how much longer I can do this. I hate almost everything I do, I regret every action I make. I don't know how, or what, to feel. I guess I just don't know how to stop pretending. I've built this character, of a girl who is confident, loud, and ultimately, happy. But behind the character is a girl who is unsure of what the future holds for her. A girl who isn't sure of how or what she's feeling anymore. A girl who just wants to be understood. But without having to explain herself. She doesn't want to be asked questions, she just wants them to understand. She's dreaming. No-one is ever going to understand what your feeling because if they did they wouldn't even realise because this feeling isn't a feeling anymore, its just consuming. How can you build a better self when you aren't even sure whats broken? How can you stop telling lies when they are said before you realise you've spoken? How can you love yourself, when the hate consumes you?
  9. 14/10/16 Why are you always so stupid. You never think before you speak. You never stop to think about the consequences. Maybe if you stopped being so self obsessed, and outwardly Biotchy people would like you better. I don't understand how your 'friends' put up with you, I'm sure once you go to university (if you even get into one) these 'genuinely happy' friendships will just peter out and die. Once again your childish behaviour and lack of control has gotten you into a petty argument with someone rarely more irritating than yourself, even though you say everyones more annoying than you (because you're an a******). I suppose at least you recognised that you'd just made everything worse, but I don't know why you ever thought she would ever 'appreciate you standing up for her', no. You were just making it worse. If you hadn't of interfered then it probably all would have blown over. Even if you just tried to help, realised it was a lost cause and "dropped it" as she later told you to, it would have been better. But no, in a desperate attempt for you to get people to like you, you just had to open that big mouth of yours and start up a pointless argument. As if that wasn't bad enough, you claim you couldn't see what rudeness she saw in you but when you actually bothered to switch on the stupid brain of yours you realised it was staring you straight in the face. You never acted any better than she did and your following actions today just proved that. That friend you were sticking up for, that friend you trust and who trusts you. Well, maybe she shouldn't, because you did the one thing she told you not to do. Read her reply. Not much but just enough to see it. It was a simple request but you couldn't just act your age for 5 minutes. But what did you get from betraying her trust, just the awful realisation that's led you here, to this place of self-pity, and hatred. To whining like the 5 year old you claim you can't stand, the one who you said you felt sorry for because she just can't see it. But the sad truth is, neither did you.
  10. 14/10/16 I'm tired of not understanding, of going round in circles, but saying not a thing. I've had enough of the constant struggle to learn this, understand that, all the while having another list of things I've still got to do. I'm just tired, worn down and exhausted from the constant whirring of consciousness, thinking and questioning. I'm done with it all, I want it to stop, to end, to finish. Exams, university applications, life, is all just getting a little too much, but not. You wouldn't admit it then, you won't admit it now. You'll just keep plodding at a rate that means you'll never quite get to where you want to be and then you'll regret everything. Always.
  11. 12/10/16 I'ts 8PM. The clock downstairs is chiming out. You see the time ticking over to 8:01PM. You realise that you don't want to work. You realise that all that this will achieve is you feeling worse than when you started. You see the ambiguity in that last sentence and realise that when you say 'this', that in fact it could refer to the work or this writing. Both are going to make you feel worse (Congrats, you started a sentence with a word other than 'You'). The snarky comments you speak only to yourself. Pause. Think. Nothing. Do you hate those thoughts? Clearly you don't know what to say about them. Are they wrong? Perhaps not? You probably shouldn't think that? "You *****", they reply. Why do you see them as someone else? Why are you writing this. "Anyone reading this would think you're crazy". I suppose by making them 'someone else', you can deflect the insults, shrug them off just like if someone else insulted you. Except you don't, that's half you're problem. You never shrug off the comments, you instead internalise them. But you don't, you say it doesn't bother you and the comment almost acts like a self-fulfilling prophecy, but the key word is almost. I think deep down, they hurt, and deep down you're too damaged to function. Deep down your internal working mechanisms are imploding. Deep down you're falling apart. But all this is so far deep down that you can't see it. The fuse in that lightbulb has already blown, and you have noticed. I think others may have noticed too. They see the steam let off condense and leak through to the surface, they saw that maybe not everything has been functioning as it should be. But that doesn't matter. They won't say anything, and neither will you, even if they did, you'd just lie and shut them down like you have with all the other warning lights flashing inside. Those leaks through to the surface seem to be becoming more and more unmanageable. They keep springing out and you can't always stop them now. They are beginning to take their hold on you again, and you see you were here before but those small leaks have shed their disguise. The tears block your eyes. So now, you can't see, you can't see how you felt with this before, and all thats left for you is to stair at the floor, or the door anything that could take you away. Away from the lack of control, the feelings, the aching of your body and mind. You don't know what you're doing. Again. And that is the question.
  12. 28/9/16 Disheartened - to depress hope, courage or spirits of; Disheartened. A word with a simple, and understandable definition. So why does it feel so complicated? Why do I keep seeing it looming around every corner I turn? Why won't it go away... Until this point in life I don't think I could say I've ever had this feeling feel quite so prominent. But whatever problem I face up to it seems to play the disheartened card its had banked for years but has been unable to use due to my 'understanding buffer'. However, that buffer seems to have gone past its expiration date, and as for a replacement, it's nowhere to be seen. The discovery of a word that perfectly describes your feelings isn't something that happens everyday. I don't know where I'm going with this, so as per usual you've resorted to the only thing you know, mind dumping on the page, why do you think any admission tutor wants to read your persanal statement, you should rename it personal ramble on consiousness-see straight into my mind, an insight to my messed up thought process. Once again you tried your hand at writing, and you failed. You seem to be making a habit of that recently, you should probably do something about that. Oh wait! You tried that, and that's what led you here, to this place. A place of hatred. A place of nothingness, and pointless activity. A place where you hate yourelf, and waste you time, thereby adding to the self hatred. Once again you reference the circular arguments and vicious circle of thoughts you have but never do anything about. You wonder why you can't talk to anyone, if you would ever show anyone this, but most importantly you suddenly realised exactly how writing in the third person is related to your feelings. You do it because you know you would never be able to say any of these things with 'I' at the start of the sentence. You could never pluck up the courage to talk to anyone, ask for help, accept that there may be something wrong. Even as you write these words you doubt yourself, the things you are writing, but continue anyway, you wonder if this is a weird, stupid form of self harm, that perhaps you're continuing to write because you want to hate yourelf, feel reason to fail. But all these things are excuses. Excuses for your stupid, and honestly immature behaviour. Excuses for your poor work ethic and lack of dedication. But even the briefest flicker to those words 'work ethic' and suddenly you're transported back to a room that doesn't exist anymore, but the people with you, you still see almost everyday. Somehow whenever she speaks to you, you don't have flashbacks to that day, the day she made you lock yourself in a bathroom stall and cry. The day you told everyone you were fine, even though the words hurt, but thats what you do everyday, except on some days the only person you're lying to may be yourself. Even now you can't accept it, you have to insert the word 'may' because you don't know if you're ok, you think you're not but you think you are. You don't ever want to talk about being not ok, so the only other option is to be ok. So thats what you do. You stop rambling, and carry on with the task in hand. Revise some more, do more than last year, fail anyway.
  13. 25/8/16 You look out of the window a year past the day you choose to remember. You see dryer and sunnier weather this time, but one thing is missing from this day, this year. A year later you may know what those letters on the page gave you, what hope they instilled in you, and that they weren't all that they seemed. While those letters choose to reveal more, the person you think about who was there that day chooses to stay away. After all, the letters haven't helped you recently, in fact, no one has, no one except yourself, and that's because that person who you wrongly compare yourself to - at any given opportunity - has been somewhat absent. But what you feel for them isn't anger for a lack of being, it's a longing for them to return. To return to their life and again be a part of yours. You've told them you miss them too many times for you to not hate yourself for doing it, and in your head, deep down, you know what the ultimate conclusion will be... "Sorry I've been really busy, how have you been :p" But you knew that was coming, and sadly you know how you will proceed. An encore of the usual "I'm good, so what have you been up to?" will follow suit, but while you type unknowingly and without thinking, somewhere in your mind the later part of that simple sentence you knew was coming will be burning. It burns all your insides and you're left with the embers of regret that are imprisoned in a jail of embarrassment, because you know you've lied, tried to hid beneath the words and letters, and between the lines. While your insides continue to blaze away, your exterior remains calm, collected, and once again your poker face wins. Just. Like. Always.
  14. 27/7/16 All your mind does is race. It scrambles its way through fields of self-doubt, inquisition, and hatred. But then, it stops. Then, all of a sudden, as if someone had built an impenetrable brick wall, there's nothing. No thoughts, no creativity, and nothing to say, a complete lack of words to explain this feeling, but then again there doesn't feel like there's anything left to feel anymore. It's a chasm of nothingness. But that doesn't make anything any easier, because how can there be something wrong when you feel nothing? How can you articulate yourself, when you can't even describe what you, yourself, is feeling? How can you help others, talk to others, communicate when you don't even know what to do with yourself anymore? You try your hand at new things, perhaps writing or singing, but do you ever get that far, you mostly just watch others achieve amazing things and sit there thinking, I couldn't do that. Distraction! Lack of concentration. Nothing. You do as you feel, write as you think, hate as you breathe. You promptly realise your inadequacy for elaborate writing, you see straight through the false identity you created for yourself. You hated English, and you were never good at it. You claimed to be an avid reader but your complete lack of vocabulary and competence when trying to articulate your few and somewhat child-like 'ideas' gave you away every time. You could do fact, but not fiction, the ideas required for fiction ever escaped you and you were left to ramble down the page with little planning, direction, or purpose. And once again that's all you've done, rambled with no clue where you were aiming for, or for why you even begun.
  15. I can't stand my own complaining anymore. I'm sick of waiting, "I'm tired", "I've had enough", or "I'm done with". I just want everything to start making sense, to feel like I'm making progress towards university, towards anything. I really want to talk to someone. Really. I do. But there's something inside of me that won't let me. The voice that narrates my life, the one that says "You're not good enough", "There's nothing 'wrong' with you. You're just useless". The word 'You' goes from being an almost meaningless pronoun, to loaded with such negative connotations. Except I'm the only one that sees them. Everything is starting to ache, I'm not sure if its just because I'm physically ill, or because my mind is starting to slow down. Slowing to such a pace that I don't want to do anything anymore. I have no motivation for work, revision, attempts to understand. Despite the fact that's all I really want. To understand my work, but also to understand something with a little more importance. Me.
  16. I love what you wrote especially the parts about believing that there are good things you have done but not being able to enjoy them, and the feeling of mot asking for much really resonates with me too. Thanks for sharing and reading my stream of consciousness.
  17. Thanks, tbh I don't know why I posted it, I just don't feel like anyone else would ever read it otherwise maybe. Honestly I'd love to get see how others would interpret their feelings too.
  18. You look out of the window a year past the day you choose to remember. You see dryer and sunnier weather this time, but one thing is missing from this day, this year. A year later you may know what those letters on the page gave you, what hope they instilled in you, and that they weren't all that they seemed. While those letters choose to reveal more, the person you think about who was there that day chooses to stay away. After all, the letters haven't helped you recently, in fact, no one has, no one except yourself, and that's because that person who you wrongly compare yourself to - at any given opportunity - has been somewhat absent. But what you feel for them isn't anger for a lack of being, it's a longing for them to return. To return to their life and again be a part of yours. You've told them you miss them too many times for you to not hate yourself for doing it, and in your head, deep down, you know what the ultimate conclusion will be... "Sorry I've been really busy, how have you been :p" But you knew that was coming, and sadly you know how you will proceed. An encore of the usual "I'm good, so what have you been up to?" will follow suit, but while you type unknowingly and without thinking, somewhere in your mind the later part of that simple sentence you knew was coming will be burning. It burns all your insides and you're left with the embers of regret that are imprisoned in a jail of embarrassment, because you know you've lied, tried to hid beneath the words and letters, and between the lines. While your insides continue to blaze away, your exterior remains calm, colle
  19. I tend to find expressing how I'm feeling difficult at the best of times but I have found that 'Journalling' has been an interesting way to challenge myself to articulate who I'm feeling. Maybe others could find it helpful as well. This is one example of something I've written. (Sorry its not very good) Disheartened - to depress hope, courage or spirits of; Disheartened. A word with a simple, and understandable definition. So why does it feel so complicated? Why do I keep seeing it looming around every corner I turn? Why won't it go away... Until this point in life I don't think I could say I've ever had this feeling feel quite so prominent. But whatever problem I face up to it seems to play the disheartened card its had banked for years but has been unable to use due to my 'understanding buffer'. However, that buffer seems to have gone past its expiration date, and as for a replacement, it's nowhere to be seen. The discovery of a word that perfectly describes your feelings isn't something that happens everyday. I don't know where I'm going with this, so as per usual you've resorted to the only thing you know, mind dumping on the page, why do you think any admission tutor wants to read your persanal statement, you should rename it personal ramble on consiousness-see straight into my mind, an insight to my messed up thought process. Once again you tried your hand at writing, and you failed. You seem to be making a habit of that recently, you should probably do something about that. Oh wait! You tried that, and that's what led you here, to this place. A place of hatred. A place of nothingness, and pointless activity. A place where you hate yourelf, and waste you time, thereby adding to the self hatred. Once again you reference the circular arguments and vicious circle of thoughts you have but never do anything about. You wonder why you can't talk to anyone, if you would ever show anyone this, but most importantly you suddenly realised exactly how writing in the third person is related to your feelings. You do it because you know you would never be able to say any of these things with 'I' at the start of the sentence. You could never pluck up the courage to talk to anyone, ask for help, accept that there may be something wrong. Even as you write these words you doubt yourself, the things you are writing, but continue anyway, you wonder if this is a weird, stupid form of self harm, that perhaps you're continuing to write because you want to hate yourelf, feel reason to fail. But all these things are excuses. Excuses for your stupid, and honestly immature behaviour. Excuses for your poor work ethic and lack of dedication. But even the briefest flicker to those words 'work ethic' and suddenly you're transported back to a room that doesn't exist anymore, but the people with you, you still see almost everyday. Somehow whenever she speaks to you, you don't have flashbacks to that day, the day she made you lock yourself in a bathroom stall and cry. The day you told everyone you were fine, even though the words hurt, but thats what you do everyday, except on some days the only person you're lying to may be yourself. Even now you can't accept it, you have to insert the word 'may' because you don't know if you're ok, you think you're not but you think you are. You don't ever want to talk about being not ok, so the only other option is to be ok. So thats what you do. You stop rambling, and carry on with the task in hand. Revise some more, do more than last year, fail anyway.
  20. So. It's been a long week, month, year. I'm currently in year 13 doing my A-levels, but I feel like I'm getting nowhere. I can't remember any of the things I learned in AS so how am I ever going to pass, when the stuff I'm learning in A2 is so difficult I can't do it. I used to enjoy science and maths but now everyday with them is a drag. I don't regret the subjects I chose because I think I'd hate every other subject more, I just wish I wasn't so useless. I'm tired of feeling worthless, useless, and stupid all the time. I'm tired of spending to many moments of the day wondering if I'm ok or not. I'm tired of hating myself every waking moment and constantly criticising everything I do even when in the moment I thought I was being helpful. I've had enough of trying to force myself to concentrate in class, and trying to stop myself from crying when I don't understand something. I'm sick of feeling like I can't take to anyone or say how I feel because I'm scared of everyone else reaction. I really want to go to university. But right now I can't see how I'm ever going to get there. I want to study Natural science but the entry requirements are sky high. I'm keep telling myselfI'm trying to work hard but in reality I'm just not doing enough work, but I can't seem to force myself to do it. I just keep making excuses and I've had enough of it all! I don't know what to do anymore I feel like any effort I make is in vain, I can't even articulate my thoughts let alone teach myself these new and complex ideas. I want to hurt more than I do but I don't want people to know, so I wouldn't ever cut myself or anything like that but I just want to clearly feel how my thoughts tell me I should feel. I just want everything to be ok.
  21. He felt scared but answered the door regardless, after all what's the worst that could happen?
  22. I'm sure I'm not depressed. So what are you doing here, you may ask? The truth is I don't know. I don't know how I feel, or what is wrong, if anything is wrong, why I think like this, or if I'm making it all up. Expressing how I feel is so difficult because I'm not sure what I'm feeling is valid or really real, or rather just a figment of my imagination, like a cover up for the fact that it's just laziness and excuses that are the reason for my failure. There are things I have done like be able to revise and get an A in one exam, but for others I claim I don't knowhow to revise or where to start, so I get a D. I say to others that I'll work harder next year for that uni place, I know working harder should easy, I made no effort the year gone by, but then I question the easiness of the task in hand. Can I really one up my efforts, when I think I struggled so much before. It's like being involved in a constant argument with someone, but that someone being yourself, and you know their weak points and how to push their buttons so you always win, but so do they. It's a vicious circle of doubted hate, with no end in sight. You can't recognise the direction you're travelling in or remember where you're aiming for. But though all this you know that you're ultimately ok, or are you? You know that you're being overdramatic, and attention seeking. But are you? Can you be attention seeking when it's been a year and no one knows how you feel. But you know you haven't told anyone because you know there are so many others in the world whoo have it harder, that have real life problems to deal with, when all you have are feeling you can't feel anymore. You wonder if anyone else feels the same, but you know people will say they do. There are plenty of brilliant people who will do everything to help, if you let them. But you won't because you're embarrassed of these stupid feelings you aren't convinced you're feeling. In the end, I just don't know...
  23. It's been a while now, that I've been questioning my 'good' health, my health that everyone else around me thinks is great, that there's nothing wrong. But I, I am not quite certain, I don't feel that hating myself constitutes as a healthy way of thinking, or that sinking feeling in my chest was there before. But over all of this, I worry that just like everything thinks, that I am ultimately ok. That there's nothing wrong, after all there's nothing to be 'sad' about, nothing has changed, retrospectively, and others have actual real life issues and struggles. So what am I, just a whiney brat, attention seeking, conniving. But there's where they're wrong, I don't want attention, I don't want anyone to know how I'm feeling, because deep down I can't shake the worry that they're all just think I'm being ridiculous. So the question is... What if I'm just being brat?
  24. You don't really know what to do with yourself. Lately, quite a few people have expressed concern for you, or asked if you're okay seemingly out of nowhere. However, for your own reasons, you tend to find that it's simply easier to just insist that you're ok, rather than find the right words for those complicated and oddly indescribable feelings. Besides, nothing horrendous (or even remotely interesting) has happened lately, so perhaps you really are ok, you've got nothing to complain about anyway. But you can't help but wonder who it is you're actually trying to convince with your nonchalance response to the seemingly constant onslaught of questions, if not from others, then from yourself. Things, events, and happenings take place throughout your day, some so inherently mundane that in theory, they should just settle in your brain and be forgotten, yet you find them racing around as if they are in some sort of agonisingly long - perhaps neverending - relay around the circuit of your conscious thoughts. Then, the pit crew of your mentality picks apart each and every word spoken, gesture made, and inference suggested. But rather than find the problem, refresh your fuel and send you on your merry way, a link somewhere, in the what should be a well-oiled mechanism, breaks, and you're left reeling, with your thoughts out of control and running away to their panic stations. The realisation soon hits you. That the simple question of "What's wrong?" has gone from being just that, a simple, easily answered and positively normal question, to becoming one bound alongside loaded guns all pointing straight at you and the triggers manned by those aforementioned out of control thoughts at their designated panic stations, on first alert and ready to fire. Sometimes they win. They succeed in sending the salt water bullets right into the eye line of an unsuspecting individual. Nevertheless by now, you've learned, or adapted, so that the runaway thoughts have a barricade of fake smiles and laughter to break through before they can become close to winning again. By now you seem to think that you should be able to sort yourself out, after all, you're seventeen, nearly eighteen, and fast approaching being a fully fledged adult. Adults don't spend their days having senseless circular arguments with themselves, with the memories of any uncomfortable conversation making you feel embarrassed all over again and consequently feeling stupidly self-conscious. Despite all this, you don't feel like it matters, or not enough to talk to anyone about it anyway. The crux of the argument is that you worry about sounding melodramatic and above all, whiney, you worry that people will find out and then you'll be seen as flawed. Your mind races and your thoughts dash too fast for you to come to any plausible conclusion on them. You may be sitting in an utterly silent room but all you can hear is the sound of the white noise loudly reverberating throughout your consciousness, forcing you to retreat into the shell of a person the self-loathing intrusions force you to be. Recent situations, exams, big important life choices, all loom over you and put you into this dark, dingy and desolate shadow, that makes all the energy you once contained magically dissipate, and you find yourself unable to learn anything new, even though you tell everyone that you're happy to work for a better future for yourself. But you feel like a fake. You feel bad for everyone else who has real issues to deal with. You think about you in an alternate universe, how successful you are, how happy you are, but you almost don't recognise her, she is so close to you but yet so unobtainable. So all you're left thinking is, objectively I'm ok, so why do I feel like this, but then again what is this...?
  25. You don't really know what to do with yourself. Lately, quite a few people have expressed concern for you, or asked if you're okay seemingly out of nowhere. However, for your own reasons, you tend to find that it's simply easier to just insist that you're ok, rather than find the right words for those complicated and oddly indescribable feelings. Besides, nothing horrendous (or even remotely interesting) has happened lately, so perhaps you really are ok, you've got nothing to complain about anyway. But you can't help but wonder who it is you're actually trying to convince with your nonchalance response to the seemingly constant onslaught of questions, if not from others, then from yourself. Things, events, and happenings take place throughout your day, some so inherently mundane that in theory, they should just settle in your brain and be forgotten, yet you find them racing around as if they are in some sort of agonisingly long - perhaps neverending - relay around the circuit of your conscious thoughts. Then, the pit crew of your mentality picks apart each and every word spoken, gesture made, and inference suggested. But rather than find the problem, refresh your fuel and send you on your merry way, a link somewhere, in the what should be a well-oiled mechanism, breaks, and you're left reeling, with your thoughts out of control and running away to their panic stations. The realisation soon hits you. That the simple question of "What's wrong?" has gone from being just that, a simple, easily answered and positively normal question, to becoming one bound alongside loaded guns all pointing straight at you and the triggers manned by those aforementioned out of control thoughts at their designated panic stations, on first alert and ready to fire. Sometimes they win. They succeed in sending the salt water bullets right into the eye line of an unsuspecting individual. Nevertheless by now, you've learned, or adapted, so that the runaway thoughts have a barricade of fake smiles and laughter to break through before they can become close to winning again. By now you seem to think that you should be able to sort yourself out, after all, you're seventeen, nearly eighteen, and fast approaching being a fully fledged adult. Adults don't spend their days having senseless circular arguments with themselves, with the memories of any uncomfortable conversation making you feel embarrassed all over again and consequently feeling stupidly self-conscious. Despite all this, you don't feel like it matters, or not enough to talk to anyone about it anyway. The crux of the argument is that you worry about sounding melodramatic and above all, whiney, you worry that people will find out and then you'll be seen as flawed. Your mind races and your thoughts dash too fast for you to come to any plausible conclusion on them. You may be sitting in an utterly silent room but all you can hear is the sound of the white noise loudly reverberating throughout your consciousness, forcing you to retreat into the shell of a person the self-loathing intrusions force you to be. Recent situations, exams, big important life choices, all loom over you and put you into this dark, dingy and desolate shadow, that makes all the energy you once contained magically dissipate, and you find yourself unable to learn anything new, even though you tell everyone that you're happy to work for a better future for yourself. But you feel like a fake. You feel bad for everyone else who has real issues to deal with. You think about you in an alternate universe, how successful you are, how happy you are, but you almost don't recognise her, she is so close to you but yet so unobtainable. So all you're left thinking is, objectively I'm ok, so why do I feel like this, but then again what is this...?
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