It’s weird how life keeps going on around you even when you feel like everything is falling apart. It’s weird how the world keeps turning when you feel like it’s frozen in space. It’s like Netflix episodes that keep playing. Next. Next. Next. It’s the sun rising and setting everyday like clockwork. It’s constant.
It makes me feel things I don’t have words to describe. I feel sick. I feel shaky. It makes me want to throw plates against a wall and watch the pieces fall down to the ground in pieces. Because maybe seeing something other than myself broken would make me feel better. I want to scream until it echoes. I want to be loud. I want the universe to stop for once. I want it to realise how hurt I am. I want the world to stop turning so I can catch up.
But it keeps going. Turning. Being. No matter how loud the scream. No matter how tragic the break. Life keeps going. No matter how much my own heart tries to destroy me. No matter how much I need a break.
I can hear the people around me. People who I love. People who love me. And I can’t help but feel some sort of hatred for them. And that makes me feel sick too. Because they are happy. And I guess I just am not. It’s burning somewhere deep inside me. And I can’t seem to get rid of it. And maybe that’s why I try and push people away. It’s easier to hate them when I can’t see how amazing they are up close.
I guess the world doesn’t stop just because I want it to.
People are still happy and living life and falling out and making up and eating ice cream from the tub and picking their outfit for tomorrow. They are meeting up in town and someone is always mad at someone called Harry who is being a fucking dick. My world is falling apart but the woman in front of me still wants to know if I want cream or ice cream with my chocolate fudge cake.
I feel like everyday is a new day that I’m hanging out with my best friend; denial. Because here I am stood right in front of him pretending I’m not completely in love with him. And here I am pretending I can cope with my anxiety and OCD and that it’s not tearing me apart. And here I am pretending I don’t still miss my ex best friend. And here I am pretending my past hasn’t affected me in the slightest. Here I am pretending I don’t have trust issues at all.
The denial stage is the best stage, you know. It’s the one that hurts the least. Because if you get yourself in the right mind set, you could make yourself believe anything. It’s the one that lets you laugh with the people around you and eat that cake and pick outfits with your best friends and ignore those texts from him. It keeps the darkness away. For a little while at least. For as long as you can.
My alarm is going to go off at 6:45am tomorrow and no doubt I will snooze it 6 times before dragging myself from my bed. But I will get up. And put on that outfit I pre-picked. On my way to laugh with my best friends. And to text the one’s that live away at Uni. And to cling on to the denial stage a little longer. Because a Tuesday is not the appropriate day for a breakdown. That sort of thing is for Monday’s.
And I’m too busy watching NCIS LA tonight to do that. Oh well.