For the past few months, I’ve slowly started to despise 6birds again. I’m currently in the process of getting up a side blog where I’ll post things as if I’m blogging that do not fit in on my blog. And Chyrp is being horrid. It’s not installing right, and that is making me want to cry.
I’m starting to feel like I can’t do anything right again. My tics are acting up, my thoughts are all colliding with each other and causing various reactions, I can’t think clearly again, I feel trapped… I feel like my mind is a cage. Not thinking about things only makes it worse, whatever it is. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like it’s always with me. And I can’t escape. I’m trapped. I’m trapped in my mind, and I can’t seem to escape it, and I can’t think, and I can’t concentrate. And it just keeps repeating itself, this thing that keeps happening to me. It goes away for a few months, but then it comes back. And when it comes back, it hits so much worse, and it hurts. It hurts because I feel like I’m losing my mind and those in my offline life just think that this is how I’ve always been. And maybe it is, but what if this thing that is happening to me is something bigger than I can’t even wrap my mind around?
And I want to cry. I want to cry because it’s the only way I can express how I feel without having to think. Because this time it has hit, it has hit me harder than anything ever has before, and my depression and PTSD and anxiety and TS are all acting up, and I can’t suppress any of it. And it’s embarrassing and frustrating and difficult AND I WANT TO SCREAM. And I lack the energy to scream and cry and try to fight against it because these tics are wearing me out and soaking up all of my energy, and I feel like I can’t do anything right.
So maybe I’m losing it. I can’t even type out correct words. “And” turns into “compress” and “cry” turns into “rose” and “difficult” turns into “soar”. I can’t concentrate, and my mind is back to not matching with my actions. I’m thinking one thing, but I’m doing another. And I try and try to fix it, to control it. And again and again after I try, I can’t control it. Not this time. Because it’s worse. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me. And I want help, but I can’t even sign myself up for it. Because my brain won’t match my actions, and my actions don’t match my brain until moments later. I don’t know what I’m doing instead until I’ve already done it.
I get up to go into the kitchen for a water bottle, and I instead go into the bathroom to use the toilet. And I don’t realize until I’m there. And it’s been gradually increasing since the beginning of July.
And maybe I’m officially crazy. Because maybe “crazy” does exist.
And I was keeping quiet, but holding it in takes too much energy.
And I lack tears to shed. I’ve run out.