i think i am going to try out this writing thing a little bit. journaling helps a bit, but it kind of makes me feel stuck. like i get my thoughts out of my head and onto the paper, and that's it. they get stuck there, and they die. i want to let them out, to let them roam freely. even if it's stupid, or useless, and no one ever reads them. screaming into the void is better than not saying anything.
i'm looking for some way to break out of myself. to reconnect with the world, and my feelings. in some ways i feel stifled, shut up. i feel like harry potter under the stairs shut up in a cupboard. i feel like a bird ramming it's beak into a glass windowpane. i feel like like a little rat in a big maze. lost and confused, bumbling and stumbling around, just trying to make sense of the world i live in. i feel the need nd the passion to create, but none of the motivation to actually do so. my perfectionism won't let me play music or paint or draw or do any type of crafts like jewelry or sewing or knitting or painting or reading or all manner of hobbies and phases i once had. if i can't do it well on the first try i can't do it at all. it makes me feel like a failure if i have no instant gratification, no nod of approval from someone. i think that's why i spend so much time on school stuff. it's been my life for years because i get validation, i feel that people approve of me, and that people think i'm smart when they hear about what i' doing. i want people to think i'm smart, and tough, and capable. i need them to.
but i feel like i'm slowly dying inside. in my bed, just slowly rotting under the covers. i can do little to stop it, but sometimes i occasionally can slow it down. i run and run and run until my lungs feel like they are bursting, my chest feels like it's collapsing, and my heart feels like it's exploding out of my chest because it gets me a good half hour of silence in my brain. all i feel is endorphins and nothing else, bt not nothing in the way that i usually feel, like it's too quiet where there's supposed to be noise, but in a way that feels nice and calm and peaceful, like a library, or a park in the night hours. it's a fight just to make that happen though, and my body is actively working against me. i need to create but i don't know how. i need to play and sing and dance and make things but my clumsy hands can't make it happen because i haven't had the courage or strength or patience to teach them. i used to create, when i was coming out of my worst, but now i feel like even though i am in a better place for all intents and purposes, i am somehow simultaneously worse.
it's like i'm a different person. like somehow i lost the parts of myself that make me me on the way. it's a frightening feeling, and i'm not sure i entirely understand it, or how to come out of it. i just know i need to do SOMETHING.
