Twenty-fifth of September. The year is 2022. Times are scary. The
world is a perpetual whirlwind. You never know if that person asking for
directions is ready to snatch your purse. Or, that another person
asking to make a phone call will steal your identity. After years of
university, in my final year, I chose to be a part of a group. And, I
ended up stepping on my toes. It is horrid and on the edge. Why did I
think I could be part of something? Something where people gather and
organize something. Walking around a sticky web. My foot getting stuck.
Head lost in a knot of anxiety and fear. And, despite all of this, my
dire desperation to be a part of something. To feel like I am
contributing to something. To feel like I am a social animal. Led me to a
vain path of unwanted troubles and unwished-for emotions. Cries I would
have never shed or struggles I would have never picked instead.
I
come back to my cot. I think about these things. And, ruminate. How do
people function so well? Mesh beautifully with each other. Even if, they
don't like each other. When I enter their mesh, I feel like I disrupt
the entire network. And, I feel tedious and I feel the need, the need to
flee. I get irritable or jittery whenever I’m in places with a lot of
people. Even someone sitting alone at a table next to mine in a cafe
irritates me. I don’t want to have friends anymore. I don’t need them. I
feel uneasy in bed, I feel uneasy around people. "Why can’t I laugh
happily like other people? Why am I sad all the time? Why am I always
nervous? Why is everything so boring?" are my only constant thoughts. No
matter where I live, I think I would have been the same. I’d be living
the same mundane life and no one would ever be interested in me. I felt
like if I lived like this for too long, I’d shrivel up and die. “Why am I
feeling sad? Why am I sad?” I’ve never felt real joy, pleasure, or
excitement in my life. I’m hungry but there’s nothing I want to eat.
Every time I leave my cot, it feels as if I am walking out of my own
grave. Hopeless and grey. I don’t know where I’m trapped but I feel
trapped. There’s nothing in my life that relaxes me. I feel cramped and
stifled. I’ve been so impatient lately. I just want to die already.
After years and years, my life is the same, the meetings are the same,
and the people are the same. I curse and get mad the same way. It’s all
the same endless repetition. This comes and goes in cycles. Three days
of the week are so tiring, the other three are just barely manageable,
and I don’t even know how the last day goes. It feels like I’m stuck but
I don’t know how to get out. That’s probably why I hope everything ends
all at once. I didn’t exist before a few years ago and I won’t exist in
the next many years, but I feel like I existed before that and will
still exist after that. The feeling that I’ll exist forever. I’ve been
frustrated by that feeling and I’ve never, in my heart, ever, felt
settled. Out of the 24 hours in a day, I only feel okay for about a
couple. And it’s not like I even feel good, I just feel okay. I just try
to get through the rest. I wish I was genuinely happy and able to say
things like ‘Yes, this is life,’ ‘This is what life is all about. I’m
not unhappy but I’m not happy either. I am tired of pretending to be
happy. I am tired of pretending to be unhappy. I just want to be honest.
Everyone is on their way to their graves, so why is everyone so happy
and excited? Does anyone live without pretending? Can, anyone? Please do
not give any advice. Please do not try to comfort me. But, do you think
I will be a different person once the winter comes?
- Oizys.