trigger warnings: counseling/therapy, intrusive thoughts, derealization, dissociation, suicide mention
--
fuck I can't really don't really know how to talk
I'm just sitting here and I feel bad because I'm supposed to be able to talk to a counselor but I feel like I'll just be annoying her even though it's her job
I just feel generally shitty and the thoughts won't go away and they're not even all that bad they could be worse and now they're getting worse
this is supposed to be me distracting myself and making them go away and it's not working
sudoku helped last time but now not so much
I want to get a jolly rancher but should I shouldn't I shit
just have a song on repeat in my head and the images flashing back but they're kind of going away sort of
not really able to write a poem or something adjacent to one just writing this
maybe I could try writing a "vent fic" sort of thing but I don't know
I don't really know
she asked me if I wanted to talk about it and in the moment I didn't but now I want to and I don't know how
fitting song tho
though
could try writing like imagery stuff we like that stuff right?
although it would be nice if my thoughts stopped getting replaced with songs
--
It was dark inside his mind.
Dark and gloomy, like all the light had been sucked out of it. The sort of gray-black that isn't really gray, just feels gray, because your mind's trying to make sense of the lack of color. The stillness of the air was unbearable, but somehow comforting. Wind can be exciting or scary or just plain distracting, but stillness is just still.
Suffocating.
Maybe not that comfortable after all.
He can't really put the feeling to words, just knows it's there. Like how his friend tries to describe the taste of a song, or the taste-smell-feeling after a cry. He knows it's not like that, what he's feeling, but that's the best way to connect it. Or maybe it is like that. He can't really say for certain, because feelings aren't really things that can be put to words.
Aren't people supposed to be able to put feelings to words? But that's just comparing, so maybe not.
Minds aren't supposed to feel like places, are they? He's not supposed to have moments where he feels like he's looking at the world from a little bit behind his eyes. Like everything in life is just a movie he's watching or maybe a game he's playing. Life is interactive, but only sometimes.
Sometimes, life's just a little bit fuzzy. It's there, he's there, it's just rough around the edges, like dreams in movies. Maybe that's another instance of the mind trying to make sense of things. Minds are strange like that.
This feels like a poem, but not because it's a poem. He guesses he just associates this sort of rambling description with poetry. Isn't everything a bit like poetry? He keeps spacing out when he means to focus. How is one to focus when the world is a boring movie? It's so much easier to stay in the mind, wrapped in blankets of gray-black with the air calm around him.
Maybe that's why people don't like life. Maybe that's why they want to escape it.
Life's a boring movie or a traumatic nightmare, and at times it seems there's no inbetween.
