I have come into the habit of every morning when I wake up, I think almost immediately "What am I going to write about today?" But somehow, when I actually sit down to start writing I can't think of anything, so I will take out of my past written things again.
On this particular page, I drew, which I don't do often, but anyway, I drew a door. It is a fully closed door. On the front, there is a number to mark it as mine, and that is all. I captioned the door as "I don't know what's inside."
This theory of the door and what it represents actually comes from a show I watched a while ago, and I liked this particular idea so much that I began to for a concept around it. The door is there, and there is a room on the other side, and my complete life is on the outside of the door. The door is in my mind, and it stays closed, and locked, because the room behind it contains all of my fears. Everything that I am afraid of now, or have been afraid of, or will be afraid of. The number on the front to label it as mine is 43, which is my birthday 04/30 but only the significant numbers, 43. I wrote at the time, that I don't know what is inside, and the drawing stayed like that for almost three days, just empty, but I spent those three days thinking subconsciously about fears, and I went back later to write over the entire top of the drawing.
I wrote: "That's a lie. Of course I know. I don't fear death, I never have. So what am I afraid of? Being left behind. Being unneeded. Unwanted. Forgotten. I'm afraid of myself. What if I do everything wrong? What if I become someone I shouldn't be? What if I don't find my purpose in life? What if I find it, and don't like it? What if I find it, like it, and fail? What if I spend all of my time, my whole life, working at accomplishing something worth living for and I never accomplish it? What if I am dreaming? What if I don't exist? What if my whole life up to this point has just been a story in someone else's head? What if I wake up some day in my past and I don't remember all of the things and people that make this life worth sticking around for? That is what is inside my door."
I have many other things I could have added to this list of things that would be inside my door, but I ran out of paper. Which is probably good. Fears are hard to think about and they leave me in a low mood when I try to think about them.
There are so many things in life that I am afraid of, none of the usual things, spiders, heights, superficial things, I used to be afraid of as a child, they don't bother me any more, I hardly even think about them any more. My worst fears are not being wanted, and finding out that I am insane. There have only been maybe a handful of times in my life when I have felt wanted, my childhood wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly warm hugs and family bonding. And a thought that continually passes through my mind at the strangest of moments, when I least expect it, is "What if I don't actually exist?" Followed by "What if everything I know is just made up?" and usually followed by "I am insane."
Why do I think this way when society deems that as insanity? Anything abnormal just automatically makes you less of a person. I must not be fit to function with normal people, because I have depression and social anxiety. Obviously those are errors in my brain, something I have that is wrong with me, something that normal people don't have. I'm not that different from anyone else. In fact, I am unbearably ordinary. I have never done anything original in my life. But I feel like I am separated from everyone else. Like I don't think on the same wavelengths that they all do. And sometimes I am fine with that. Why would I want to be so dramatic, let such little things bother me and ruin my day, like all of those other people do? Why is their life so difficult? Because they let every stupid little thing into their mind and they focus on that, and they let it eat at them, and they let it change their moods, and they let it ruin their lives. I can't do that. If something starts to bother me, I immediately reason it out. I don't even notice the little things anymore. Like people making rude comments, things not going how I originally thought they would, the little things that people seem to take negatively. I don't even notice them anymore, I must have trained myself not to. Why would I want to spend my whole life getting upset over things that don't matter? I don't. So I don't let things upset me.
If I do all of this, why am I still unhappy? I have no idea. It isn't something I can even pin point. I am just generally unhappy. Like there is a layer of unhappiness blanketed over my entire life. There are moments when I forget it is there, when I feel happy, but they are fleeting and as soon as I start to think about anything else other than that one moment I was happy, it settles over me again.
I am really bad at ending posts, but I think I have put everything I can into this one.