Normalcy
How much I want it. Normalcy. Not wanting it enough, obviously, otherwise I might actually make an Effort.
I sometimes wonder, though. What it's like to live in that bubble? How is my bubble so different? How can I ever care enough? What it's like to not feel like needing help, yet unable to ask for help? I watched a youtube video today, talking about living life in quiet desperation. It doesn't paint an inaccurate picture of humanity, but it reaches out to people in a developed country like US more, where there is an actual escape. Does this mean I don't see myself having an escape here? Would I, though, anywhere? Would every place I go be just an endless trap.
How could I write to express myself. I am sinking. Not quite drowning, but sinking. To sink, but not drown. To live, and be able to breathe, but... constantly... feeling... deflated, decompressed.
I'm not meant to be here, or anywhere. Can't God take me away? Why not? I'm not needed here, not really. I'm trying to figure out what I would do to ask for help, or who I would go to. I don't really wanna bother anyone, since I don't know how to explain what is wrong with me. And it may sound silly, but I think I'm gonna pick up an old fic to read now. Stories that echo voices of the people, without corporates having a say in creating them.
I have a lot to do, actually. I need to finish another draft for my novel. I also should reply an email. I... What else? I should write another short story and commit it to another competition. I can read.
My aunt is sick, and admitted to a hospital, by the way. It's a pretty significant event, in fact. But it's not really something I would share. Well, not where I think people would actually read. If you happen to stumble upon this part of me, then thank you for reading it this far. This is a piece of my life I'm going through. I'm sick. Sorry. Not physically, mind you. I suppose I have to admit that I'm not so healthy mentally.
I hope we can meet someday. And I hope I won't disappoint.