open scarlet letters

day 6

< 8th june >

dear diary,

all i do is waste my time and linger around like a forgettable lovesong playing on the radio as white noise. i live as if death is holding my hand and will strike in seconds, who knows maybe it actually will? just yesterday i was looking through something and noticed that this whole thing that i do to my life is known as dissociation and can get you washed up on the shore and land you right on the path to getting lost forever. i think i might be on the verge of that level.
to describe things easily, (if you've watched moon knight) it's like i have two completely different personalities - one happy and cheerful, the comedian, the joker, the annoying youngest child and the other an agonizing old person who has lived so much they don't want to anymore. these two "personalities" aren't supposed to merge and one personality cannot dominate the other because i need both. now it's like the second one is begging to take over and i don't know the things it can do. i don't wake up in the day, i don't eat anything, i don't write, i don't journal, everything that makes the good carless comedian child is slipping through me and i'm cracking. if i crack enough and the bad side is awake in the day, it'll ruin my perfect mirage of the perfectly normal kid and i cannot bear that. i don't want any of the looks, the discussions, the "what do we do with her?" the "why didn't you tell me" the "if this is you now, you won't make it to the real world" the "it's all just a phase" the "are you sure you're not this way because it's trendy?"

no, but i wish it was because being a mess of a person is trendy or a phase but i've been like this for as long as i can remember. always different and standing out in no good way. i remember being in grade 3 and being the most out of place person in a room full of dancing kids and giant mirrors, i remember looking into the mirrors and despising the person in front of me, "why won't you fit in? why can't you just dance and look pretty like other people for once? why does this uniform make your figure look so ugly? why do you hate yourself? why do you want to murd£r everyone here and burn this building down?" there in that moment some people had come to take pictures of us for the school magazine and and took one of me too. i stood there pretending to move for the picture while they all danced and danced and danced like they would never be as miserable as i. my sister got the final picture printed onto a piece of wood which was a part of a clock she got me on one of my birthdays. each time i see that picture i'm at the dance floor again, the center of my nightmares, not scared but fazed by the reality and sorrow of my existence, faking a smile for the first time as the dance teacher yelled at me to dance. this is also the reason why several people tend to laugh whenever i'm forced into a dancing situation. i let them laugh. mock my lifelessnes till your heart's content because i mock it too, such insult of a human they're better off left as a joke.

deliriously,
a joke