It's so terrible; being unable to discern reality apart from an idle daydream. It starts with the time of day—you're at work or in school and it's midday, but you could have sworn it was night already. Actually, it starts with time itself. You lose your perception of it.
You check the clock in the morning, and it's 6:00 am, and you check twice more because you aren't sure it's right. Then, you wonder if all these years you've actually been getting up at 5:00 am. Are you sure you wake up at 6? Are you positive? You check again. You check again. You pull yourself out of bed and fulfill the routine you've beaten into yourself so as not to lapse into the void of time, which you're sure is wrong.
Then there's routine; you form routines for everything for three reasons: To not forget to do them, to avoid relying solely on the nonexistent and possibly incorrect time, and finally because you have neither the motivation or the enthusiasm to do anything that isn't muscle memory.
One such routine—mine in fact—would go as follows: Wake up, plug in the lights, check the time, check social media, check the time, find semi-suitable clothing in depressing colors, check the time, fix my hair, check the time, grab my distressed bag, leave the house, jam my earphones into my skull, survive school, come home, text the little friends I have, sleep, eat, and sleep some more. I go through it all the same way every single day. I even eat the same thing for all of my meals. Every. Single. Day. Sometimes, I think that I don't need food. That always ends with falling asleep to the pang of hunger cramps.
Another thing about being unsure of reality is a lack of interest or motivation. There were things you loved once, maybe even things you were obsessed with. There might have been a person or a pet. Now you don't love things. You go through your life but you don't live it. The musical that got you so excited last month and the new instrument you couldn't wait to learn and the new friend that sits beside you in the lab; none of it matters. Nothing matters. You find yourself declining parties and sitting lonely in showers and lying in bed ignoring the people around you yet praying someone will come save you from yourself. You are lonely; but you know, logically, that you are not alone.
I am not alone. You repeat it to yourself with the vigor and futility of a Gregorian chant. I am not alone. You do not believe it. The people in your life become victims of object impermanence the moment they leave your line of sight. You can no longer remember the way that the smell or the feel of their hands on yours. You long for release from the pain of forgetting that there are people who care about you after only a day away. You miss them and you wonder: do they miss you?
YOU ARE READING
Dissociate
Non-FictionReality is unstable; an idea contrived by the human brain that holds no real weight. Sometimes, however, we see that reality is very real for just that reason - it is whatever we want it to be.
