Misunderstood

I can't tell you how many times I've messed up in the past two years. I went from being lost to feeling utterly incapable of being found. I've tried to understand the part of me that struggles to build calm interactions with people. For me, people will always be a challenge. Do I back out? I can't. Because being human—social interaction is a significant part of that. Growing, healing, loving, hating—all of it requires human connection.

My mind conveniently ignores the basic need for companionship whenever it sees fit. I’m not naturally introverted, but I’ve been forced into it by the overwhelming self-hate I harbour. Nothing is ever good enough, and that’s the real issue. But I’m safe now. I won’t let my mind sink back into that level of self-loathing that stops me from achieving the best I can from all my experiences. Until I reach that point, I don’t think I can surrender myself to anyone—not with this broken and tattered soul inhabiting the body I was born into.

Time won’t heal this, because I’m not damaged—this is just who I am. I operate on a black-and-white system that keeps me from seeing the good in anything. I can’t hold on to the things I want to because they no longer serve my current purpose. At the same time, there’s nothing keeping me anchored to this earth—literally nothing—and that terrifies me because it means that one day, I might end up wanting to end my life. But I can’t do that, not until I know I’ve reached my dead end. I can’t see the end, nor can I see the beginning. Everything feels foggy and murky. How do I move forward?

People don’t understand, or rather, they don’t see the mess inside my head. And I think they’re lucky for that. Because as much as I talk about my problems, I don’t believe I truly express the hardship I endure daily.