『You have mental problems』

Saturday--anxious as heck

I don't know what I'm feeling.

Like.

It'll be my birthday in one day. I'll be 18. I don't even know what I want to do for my birthday, let alone the rest of my life.

 I've got plenty of time, I guess. People usually don't get on the right path in their career until much later. So I've got time? I don't know. I just don't like the idea of becoming an adult.

I hate how all these things happen and I have these awful things that I've done to myself and others due to this stupid mental illness. Then life just goes on. I barely have time to accept it because before I know it, it's been 2 months and I still feel just as bad. 

I guess on the bright side, that awful time is gone. I don't have to endure it forever. Still, the aftermath lingers for a while even when time is moving forward. I'm forced to move forward, or else I'll get left behind hating myself for something that's in the past. Something I can't change or take back.

I have to keep moving forward and this birthday reminds me of that.  And that's scary to me. I'm not ready to move forward. But I have to.

2:44 am -- not real?

I had a pretty low point in my life this year. It'll probably be the lowest point of my entire life. I hope it'll be, actually. I came so close to ending everything that if it ever gets worse...

If it ever does get that bad, I guess I'm more prepared now. I was nowhere near ready to deal with such a major depressive episode then, even after a few months of doing really well.

This year doesn't even feel real.

II feel like it wasn't me. That I wasn't me. That it wasn't real. I wasn't real.

Really, though.

I was dissociating so badly that my experience at that mental hospital feels like a dream. Not even a dream. That's a big overstatement. It feels like a story that I overheard a long time ago that I only remember fragments of. While most of the year doesn't feel like me, that really doesn't feel like me.

I can't even describe how not real it feels. The little that I can remember was that I was questioning my existence every single day. I couldn't register that the things I was seeing was actually there. I could barely recognize my own name. I knew it was a word that I knew, but I couldn't identify it as my own name.

It was a weird escape but terrifying at the same time. I couldn't snap out of it no matter how hard I tried. I didn't feel real again until my parents picked me up when I was discharged. Maybe it was just the setting and the situation. It probably was. I was so out of it from the episode and being dangerously suicidal, maybe dissociating was the only way I'd keep myself alive.

At least I feel real now. That's all that matters.