I’m going to tell you a little secret: healing requires pain. That’s why when you’re feeling so anxious that’s when you know that you are healing through the innate human ability of adaptation. In simple terms: you’re going to get used to the anxiety that you’re feeling and move on with your life.
Because you eventually have to heal.
Because you eventually have to recover.
Because you eventually have to live.
Confessions of a Wallflower is a poetry collection about depression, self-love, and healing. You can purchase a piece of my soul here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1542396859 ✿
It has been awhile since I spoke to a friend. I spend most days at home reading books. Just writing all my sorrows away. And it gets dull after awhile. Spending most of my time alone in the dark. Missing the feeling of what it’s like to have a social life.
But the sad thing is—I am anxious with the slightest social interaction because I feel like I’m ugly and awkward and boring. And I use thought as an excuse for me not to participate in life because I am afraid to live.
And the truth is—I want to die. But I am afraid of pain. And I use fear as an excuse to continue my existence because I am also afraid to die.
—Confessions of a Wallflower, page 63
Sometimes the words I type feel unreal. Sometimes I think I’m losing my ability to write. I miss my old writer self when I was brave and playful and confident with my words. I wish I could turn back time and try to take it easy with myself. That the universe didn’t have to make sense to me. That I could’ve taken it one day at a time instead of burning myself out.
Someone once said that when you stretch your intellect beyond a certain point, you will crack up. And I think that’s what happened to me. I became so indulged with the power of creation that came with controlling the way that I think that made my mind crack. It’s now always anxious with or without reason. There isn’t a single day that it doesn’t think about death or the afterlife. It was trying to control the nature of my reality that sent me into a mental health facility.
I became so paranoid about something called “the butterfly effect” and how with every choice we make we create a different reality. With other lives that we’re leading. With other people we’re becoming. And I just want to be the perfect version of myself, but I feel like a failure nowadays. It’s hard to succeed when I’ve already lost my mind. And it’s even hard to live when everything I feel feels unreal.
I’m really sorry that you’re in so much suffering. I’m really sorry that you’re in so much pain. These feelings of regret, anxiety, and unreality sometimes happen after experiencing feelings of well-being, healing, and peace. And you may think that the sun may never shine again in your world but it will. I hope you know that it will. Just hang in there. It will get better.
May you have the courage to fight this phase.
May you have the willpower to keep yourself alive.
May you have the wisdom to know that recovery is possible for you.
May you eventually be happy.
May you eventually be peaceful.
May you eventually feel in love with yourself again.
Where do our decisions come from? They’re like a random sprinkle of rain on a hot summer day. How do we know if we’ve had collected the right data to act on a certain decision when in fact everything is infinite in our imaginations?
I find myself playing all the variables in my mind every time I make the simplest decision. I’m an extreme worrier. I do feel like I’m losing my mind sometimes. Even just typing these words right now are decisions and it bewilders me how naturally they just go through the pages.
So what is choice?
In my own definition, choice is the basic proof that we have free will and with free will came chaos. Chaos because choice for me is the anxiety that comes before we act on a certain decision.
The anxiety of “what if”
What if we’re not wearing the right clothes?
What if we’re not acting the right way in front of people?
What if we’re not doing the best that we can to be the person that we want to be?
And it’s scary. To ruminate over the same things over and over again just because everything we do is forever done.
I should just be like a bird and just fly and fly and fly and be free on a hot, rainy summer day.
“Every path is the right path. Everything could have been everything else, and it will have just as much meaning.”
God, everything feels so unreal sometimes. I make an effort to walk around my neighborhood sometimes to not lock myself inside the four corners of my room, and I look at a tree and think: is that really a tree? Or am I just imagining that it’s a tree? And it goes on to birds, the sun and the moon and myself. And then I think: do I even exist? Is anything real? Can a force in this universe distract me from this feeling of unreality?