This post is one of two you will get today. It's kind of a ventpost, but I don't want to label it as such. It's about the last thing we talked about the last time we called, so strap in. And it doesn't count to the 1000 words you assigned me to write by the end of the day.
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I feel weird now that you know my horribly embarassing secret. I don't really feel relieved. I can't say I feel worse, but I don't feel any better. I haven't thought about it much in the last couple of months. I mean, it's always there, but I've learned to live with it. It's just there. It's not real. The feeling can't hurt me. Only I can hurt me. So, I just tune it out. I really can't see any other way to deal with it.
Going to a therapist about it scares the living fuck out of me. I've heard horror stories. Even the stories that end well seem kind of miserable. I don't know. I probably seem actually mentally ill now. Admitting it makes me feel that way. But at the same time, it doesn't feel real. I feel like I'm making it up, despite how afraid it makes me. I don't think you understand how afraid it makes me. Sometimes I feel like a waste of exceptional circumstances.
Actually, scratch what I said about not being relieved. I kind of feel relieved. I feel eager to expel a lot of this shit from my psyche. It feels good to not have to pretend like I was willing to carry this to the grave.
Honestly, dude, you may be the only person who would understand. There is one other person who would, but I feel totally cut off from them these days (I can explain later). I just hope I don't seem gross and fucked up to you. I'm sure I don't, but I say it out of compulsion, y'know?
Yeah, I don't know what else to say even though there's still so much I haven't said.
As for how this relates to what I'm doing in college, don't think for a second that I haven't thought about it. I've thought about quitting a lot. I'm never serious about it, though. It's more of an impulse than anything else, like "You have to drop out because you have to." All of my reactions against this are more impulses than serious thoughts. I don't know.
Another thing: relationships. This kind of makes me feel incapable of connecting with someone. I got this weird, obscure, fucked up thing in me. Who the fuck would actually want someone like me if they found that out?
I heard this thing that this whole condition is actually the manifestation of extreme self-hatred. Like, it projects what you hate the most onto you and your brain is like "Here. You are this thing." That makes a lot of sense to me, but it leaves more questions than answers. Namely, why am I so fucked up then? My home life has always been awesome. I know my family loves me. Everything is going great and nothing bad has ever really happened to me. What could make me not love me? Did something happen to me as a kid? I don’t know. It feels simultaneously ungrateful and scary.
Just for the record, it easy to forget. I am perfectly capable of being happy. I have felt fine for the last couple of months. But I can’t physically unfeel the fear, even if it's so minor that I don't think about it consciously. I don't know if that makes sense. I'm intentionally muddying my words because this is still hard to talk about, so I don't even make sense to myself.
Anyway, yeah. And to think we couldn't get any closer. Now you know that I probably am actually mentally ill, among other things (😉). Thank you so much for being my friend.
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Here's exactly what I wrote in that journal I was talking about:
November 25th, 2021
I am in hell. Maybe I'll never be truly happy, but I'll fight like hell anyway. I'll give it complete shit.
December 6th, 2021
I am in hell again. Holy fuck. Either I'm coming down off the caffeine or I'm having an episode. YOU'RE THE BEST AROUND! NOTHING'S EVER GONNA KEEP YOU DOWN!(1) I WILL NOT CONCIDE! THE PEOPLE I LOVE CAN'T BE WRONG ABOUT ME (I HOPE THEY'RE NOT WRONG ABOUT ME).
(1) One strategy I had to keep myself from feeling bad was singing Joe Esposito - You're the Best to myself. You know, the song from Karate Kid. It's such a silly thing but it kind of works.
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At least I have something to write about. I know I always preface that by telling you that I think it's stupid, but I really don't. I believe in it with all my heart, even if it feels impossible right now.
