this is not me
Hey! I hope everyone is doing alright. It’s finally autumn, so no more heat. Incredible. I’m sorry I have not written in a while, I have been very busy with classes and life. I have wanted to write everyday, though, so now I will do just that.
This entry discusses self harm and drug use. Please do not read this if you don’t think you can handle it. There is no shame in being careful of what thoughts you put into your brain. Also please keep in mind that I am fine. I think it is best to express your darkest thoughts.
Do you prefer to be awake or asleep? I spend most of my time asking myself that question. I don’t enjoy sleep, I never have. It’s not due to repeated nightmares or anything, I think I just get bored. I don’t enjoy being awake much either.
It’s remarkable how quickly hard drugs become normal in college. First year, it’s weed and alcohol and possibly shrooms for your more adventurous friends. Second year, it's coke and molly and aderall and ketamine. I used to do drugs too.
Some days I wake up and everything feels different. These are not my people, this is not my home, this is not my body, I do not belong here. Sometimes it takes weeks for me to convince myself that everyone around me doesn’t go to the green room and practice their lines between conversations. Where are the cameras?
On days when it rains, I feel like I am somewhere else. I can’t find myself. On days when it's sunny, I feel like I’m in my skin again. On days when the sky is overcast, I feel like I have never been here at all.
I have been trying my best to interact with people. I have little capacity for feeling. I’m too caught up dreaming about needles in my arms and hospital beds. It has proven difficult for me to navigate social settings recently. I go to parties surrounded by people I love and my first thought is I need to get out. I speak with my closest friends and loved ones and mourn the loss of the energy I used to have. I wish I could give you what you deserve. I want to love you, I swear I do, but right now I don’t know where I am. I smile because it makes you smile. Thank you for your smile. I love you.
Part of me still wants to make something amazing. I think about continuing work on my musical or my plays or my books. I write songs and forget them. It’s not that I don’t like what I create, it’s just that nothing feels good.
Have you ever heard of anhedonia? It means the loss of ability to feel pleasure, especially from things that have previously made you feel pleasure. There is nothing more frightening. It’s worse than losing a sense. I was blind for a few days after one of my eye surgeries. It was terrifying and all I did was cry. There is nothing worse than losing the ability to feel pleasure. I’m not there yet and I don’t intend to be. Most things do not bring me joy, but I will get sudden rushes of it every so often. I’ll see a stranger on a bike and my life is okay again. Sometimes it comes from thinking about the people I love. I have forgotten what it feels like to not be surrounded by people who love you. You remind me of beauty.
Anhedonia is what happens when the drugs don’t feel good anymore. I remember after using for a while the drugs stopped getting me high, they just kept me from being sober. One day I may have a child and I may look at him and think I cannot love you how you need me to. What then?
I realized the other day that I am almost three years clean of self harm. I don’t talk about this much, but I was addicted to self harming for most of my childhood, adolescence, and teenage years. I’m very proud of myself and I’m not afraid to talk about this anymore. Why should I be ashamed?
I don’t “self harm” anymore, it's true. I still hurt myself, though.
I’ll fall in love with someone I know will never feel the same way because I know it will hurt the same kind of hurt it did the last time. It’s consistent and consistency is invaluable. I don’t want to die I just want to fuck up my life. Really all I want is to stop wanting.
I’m better than I have ever been before. Isn’t that sad? I don’t have goals, just fantasies. I don’t have passions, just distractions. They’re all the same if you squint.
I wake up every morning almost completely blind. I see shapes and colors. I see light and its absence. (I see light in its absence.) Have you ever told someone you loved them just to see how it would sound?
I wake up in the middle of the night knowing someone is watching me.
I like to watch couples in bars, how they interact and how they touch. He makes a joke and she leans back and laughs. She makes a joke and he takes a sip of his drink. They kiss and I feel it too. There’s only so much one body can do. Her head touches his head while they scroll through his phone. I want life to be a museum with little cards describing why important things are important.
Soon enough all of you will become one to me and for that I am sorry. It’s an illness, Mom, I’m sick. I love you more than anything. I lay in bed and think I will never sleep again. Why sleep when you know you will die?
Is this meant to feel good?