...And I Am Going Home

Journal Entry 1

This is just an experiment, writing, as suggested by my therapist. Apparently, some people find it easier to express their thoughts and feelings through writing instead of talking. Whilst I cannot determine if I just find talking difficult or if there is nothing to talk about, perhaps writing will aid in finding that answer. At the very least, it is something to take up my time as I am still finding myself lacking in the hobbies department. Before, I would play puzzle games while listening to true crime podcasts. I have not listened to one of my weekly podcasts as of yet; I tried to listen, but within the first few minutes, all anyone can talk about are the Snickelway kidnappings. As I was a part of it, I already know what happened, so there is little point in listening; it would be a waste of time. Perhaps after a week or so, everyone will have moved on to another subject, and I'll return to my podcasts; however, in the meantime, I need to occupy myself with something, and I suppose I'll write whatever comes to my mind.

I looked up advice for writing journals and therapy writing, as that is what I am doing I suppose. A lot of people suggest just first writing what you did in the day and letting it flow into your thoughts, which could potentially reveal what is wrong with me, or I guess I should be more positive and say if there is something wrong with me, but who am I kidding; there is something wrong with me. I should be feeling something about everything, but there isn't anything there. Maybe I shouldn't disregard previous accusations from exes that I am a robot in disguise, trying to learn how to be human as I appear to emote differently from everyone else. I know that I show autistic behaviours of having little facial emotions and being relatively passive and unchanging for the majority of the time. Still, now I start to feel that maybe I don't emote because I don't have any emotions, or at least strong ones or I'm not having the correct emotion in the right situation.

You just broke up with your boyfriend, are you alright? Strangely, I am; life is still the same. You just got kidnapped by a giant human-eating monster. Are you alright? I survived. Let me get on with my life. But then again, maybe if I had been held prisoner for longer by Snickleway, I would have felt differently, but I was only taken for about an hour, not enough time to have developed any trauma, which everyone seems to think I have. When they talk to me, they either speak in that high-pitched tone of voice, that patronising one that you would use for children, or act like they are walking on eggshells whenever the subject comes up, or someone nearby mentions it.

I have now just noticed how many words I have already written, and I am honestly surprised at the ease of just writing all of my thoughts and cumulating them into one entity; I tend to overthink quite a lot of things to the extent that I lose thoughts which I wish had been recorded, not that they were of any interest but more for my own benefit. At the very least, if this therapy experience does not work out, I will use it to document my thoughts on the day, a separate journal to my bullet-point diary of to-do lists. Let's not waste paper, though. I fear this already was a waste of paper. And now, I do not know how to properly stop a journal entry since I am supposed to write down my thoughts, but my thoughts never end.

How about I am now ending this particular entry. 

-Oliver Farley