《depersonalization/derealization 》

nothing is real anymore. (intro)

I used to be so happy, I used to have a great progressive life, I used to love feeling things. Now whenever I feel anything too strongly I get overwhelmed, anxious, and disturbed. That was a long time ago, that was before I felt this way. Why did this have to happen to me? I used to be so happy. Now I see everything through a filter of some sort, not really seeing things how they're supposed to be seen. Like Im watching my life on a TV screen. Like I'm viewing myself from an alternate universe. 

I'm so mad at my mind. I'm mad at my emotions. I'm mad at everything. What did I do? Where did I go wrong? Why is this happening to me? I should have taken advantage of the time I had when things felt real. If I knew I was gonna feel like this, I would have done more things, I would have done better things. I would have listened to more music when I could hear the lyrics fully. I would have watched the sunset when I could fully experience the beautiful view. I would have pet more dogs to feel the fur between my fingers and to feel the excitement. I would have stuck my tongue out at the sky while it was snowing to feel and taste the snow land on my face and tongue. I would have gone to more concerts to feel so happy to be in that music community, to feel the bass in my chest, to be able to jump around freely, to be able to mosh, to have that general sense of freedom and happiness, adrenaline and strength. But its too late. I had my chance to feel things. And I didn't take it.

~

I wake up in my bed, feeling sunken in and consumed. I see the dust floating around aimlessly through the air, lit up but the sun's ray through the old torn curtains. I sit up, with no intention of getting up. I feel too physically numb to stand up or even move too much. If I stand up, I'm gonna feel sick to my stomach. I'm gonna fall right back into my bed and itll all mean nothing.

But I have to get up eventually. I slowly lift my body up with my weak, shaky legs. I look down at them. They aren't mine. I hold my hands in front of me. They aren't mine. I hover to the bathroom across the way, gazing into the mirror. That reflection? Not mine. I look into my eyes. I Notice how empty they look, as if I was observing a statue in a museum. It seems I'm looking right past the mirror into nothingness, almost ignoring my reflection. I can't seem to focus on it, it looks blurry, skewed, pixelated, glitchy, not there. I turn around and walk into the dark hallway, feeling every cold step on the bottom of my feet. Observing every step, making an attempt to distract myself. Dosent work. Nothing works.