March 7, 2015
Self analysis—let’s call this that. I’m basically a “troubled” eighteen year old with social and mental issues. Well, don’t get me wrong, I’m more than that but let’s focus on that particular part. Nowadays, or let’s say the past month I’ve been a very anxious motherfucker who doesn’t know how to calm my thoughts. My worries overcome me and days when I’m internally calm are fucking miracles from God. So I’m trying to—don’t laugh—diagnose myself on this current mental problem, irrational fear, or perhaps illness that I might have. I don’t know if it’s serious and never will I know. I’m from a culture where seeing a fucking mental health professional or a shrink is a big joke. All I know is it’s eating me, it’s undermining me, and it’s taking me away from me. If I tell this to anybody, I wouldn’t be taken seriously. So I try to be normal as much as possible, but I fail every single fucking time because of people. People are so damn good at disrupting my inner balance. When I’m all good with my self-identity, they come crushing the composure and fuck the sanity out of me. God, I hate people!
You can try comprehending this hate I’m talking about by omitting the drama from the word itself. I hate you and it’s nothing personal. People regardless of who they are to me—family, friend, or stranger—I can’t be true to my actual self when I’m with them. They make me feel like either I can’t keep up with them or they can’t keep up with how I want them to keep up with me. I’m not too sure which. I try comforting myself by thinking that it’s fine, that I can have multiple selves depending on who I’m with. I try so hard to express myself when I’m alone but when I’m out in the real thing, I automatically suppress myself ten times the effort I give to be myself. The more I try to act myself, the more that my real self doesn’t show and before I know it, it’s a mental blackout—I don’t know what to say, how to act, and sometimes, how to breathe. It feels a lot like claustrophobia. Trust me on this though; it looks nothing like that in the other person’s perspective. I look like an outgoing fuck. Sadly, that’s not how it actually looks like in my mind.
I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. That’s the problem; I want to be someone to anybody else to feel like whom I used to be but I can’t. When I look at others, all I tend to see are doors shut with loud noises reverberating yet I couldn’t understand. I don’t like people, but somehow ironically, I need them. Times when I feel humiliated without anybody humiliating me are the reasons why I choose to snuggle in my blanket and stay in my room all day. My judgment and actions are always clouded by the involuntary and unceasing embarrassment and uncertainty I feel about myself in public or when I’m speaking to anybody at all. I’m not afraid of stepping out of my comfort zone; the truth is I can’t.
Am I sick? Please give me some advice.
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