LIfe After Grace (a depersonalisation disorder story)

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4.

“Louise often feels like part of her is "acting." At the same time , "there is another part 'inside' that is not connecting with the me that is talking to you," she says. When the depersonalization is at its most intense, she feels like she just doesn't exist. These experiences leave her confused about who she really is, and quite often, she feels like an "actress" or simply, "a fake.” 
― Daphne Simeon,

4th day in

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 Look out the front door like a ghost 

into the fog

where nobody notices the contrast of white on white

She walked in the strangers dream, stretching out her fingers to brush along the school cement wall as she wondered by. However, the feeling of the rough texture that her fingers coated didn’t quite reach her, almost as if the feeling could not bear to travel the long distance. Her long blond hair was let free, swinging as she made her way. Her posture was different to usual, anyone who knew her would tell you. Her shoulders and back were completely loosened up, as if all her troubles had flown away. Her arm reached to grab the door of the office, and she wondered once again if it was real.

“Name Honey?” The receptionist asked. She felt like an actor in a bad movie.

“Delilah Evans” she spoke, trying to act normal. She wondered if the receptionist would know that she was backstage right now.  

Could she see?

She felt she could probably jab the Lady’s pen in her own eye and she would not even feel it.

What would she do if she knew?

“Thank you” she said as she was handed her schedule.

Her pale shirt and light grey jeans contrasted heavily against the other more colourful teenagers, as they pushed their way through the corridor.

This isn’t right

I’m not right and I should care, shouldn’t I?

But she couldn’t, and even though she knew it was wrong she didn’t care that she couldn’t.

“Watch it, crazy!” She didn’t feel the shove.

A boy with dark black hair and dark eyeliner slouched past her. If there was one thing she knew at that moment, it was that they were exact opposites. They might be both social outcast but they couldn’t be more different on the inside. He felt too much. She felt nothing.

She went to school.

But she didn’t go to work.

She didn’t drink tea with her mum or Wilson.

She didn’t listen to her vinyl.

She didn’t exist. 

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Sorry if this chapter sucks. I was incredibly hard to write because depersonalisation is such a hard thing to express. Let be know how you liked it!!! BTW to anyone who has experienced depersoniation or is experiencing it, if you could write how you experienced it, that would be amazing and really help. I would probably feature it in this story somewhere (with acknowledgement if you want).