A Note: This was written some time ago and I am in a much better place now (with the help of writing and this very challenge I've set myself). If you feel anything similar to this please speak to someone.
You are not the first person on the Earth to think these things. You are not the first and definitely not the last person to go through this. But it feels like it. It feels like no one can understand what it’s like when you wake up in a morning and only wish that you could sleep longer, maybe forever. You can’t quite articulate the sensation and that only makes it seem even more isolating.
You know, logically and sensibly, that plenty of people feel this way. Even worse. But it doesn’t help you, doesn’t quite give you that push to tell someone that when you were nearly hit by that car (no one’s fault, really) that you thought for a second you might be killed and your heart didn’t speed up like it should. You just accepted it. You should have been terrified, should have leapt to the safety of the pavement and clutched your heart in relief. You were scared because you weren’t even a little bit scared.
You’re still scared now. Of everything, but particularly that by some lapse of willpower or self-preservation you might just walk out into traffic and never look back. You don’t want that but also you kind of do. It seems simpler that way. You don’t have to drag yourself through a life you hate if you die.
You wouldn’t actively hurt yourself. You might bite skin a little harder than you should. Leave teeth marks in your knuckle. But you’ve never actually broken the skin. It’s not really self-harm, just a lapse in judgement and a reminder that you are actually here. The feeling is interesting but you can’t describe what it is.
You aren’t the first person to do this, you won’t be the last. You know there are others feeling the same way, or something similar and you would advise them to speak to someone, to get help. But you can’t do it yourself, you’ll just trudge on and watch in disappointment as another week passes you by and all you can do is lie in bed, awake for hours wishing you could make something of yourself.
You could. Plenty of people do. You hear their stories; it cheers you on when you hear someone mention their hard times and how they got through. They managed and so can you.
Yet you do nothing.
One day you might, but today. Today, you’re going to do the same thing you do every day and work and go home and eat and waste so much of your time on the internet because it’s the only distraction from the voice in your head telling you that you could do so much better. This isn’t where you want to be. There’s a notebook of ideas that you write in like that will achieve anything.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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