I’ve been having those nightmares again. They always come and go randomly but they usually appear when I’m at my lowest. I hate the dark thoughts that swim around my mind because of them. Such thoughts…they make me ill.
I’m always hesitant to speak to people about what troubles me. Only because in doing so I worry even more. I can’t control that fear, it’s a sickness that will never be cure. It can be tame, to a point where it won’t cause too much of a problem for me but it all depends on how strong I am.
There will always be moments that the fear will take over and others when it seems like it has disappear. But in the end, it will always be there. I hate it so much. To always have that worry of what people think of me. To worry that they will hurt me in some way. Just thinking about it adds onto what’s already troubling me. That’s why I prefer to keep those thoughts and emotions to myself. It’s makes it slightly easier having less to think about.
Sometimes, keeping these thoughts to myself can be too much. So I write them down on paper, or in this case I type it. It has help me. It feels as though those horrible thoughts, emotions — all the negatively becomes absorbed by the words I put on paper.
So I come to the point of writing this all, what’s bothering me? I always had a nagging feeling in my mind that no one will ever know something has happen to me, if it did. For example, everyone knows that I always try to get online each day and that I always try to leave a message of when I’ll be away for a while. Or at the very least I explain why I’ve been gone. So if I just stop for a long time, would it concern anyone?
I don’t know. I could be hit by a car and go in to a coma but no would know. My parents would probably be the only ones. Though I doubt it. Since I do know that they’ll never pick up the phone. So if the hospital called to tell them about something that has happen to me they wouldn’t even pick up. Or even know what the hell they are saying in English. They’ll just assume it’s telemarkers or something. Everyone else wouldn’t know, especially being how my folks lack a lot of social skills (and technology skills) with my friends and family.
In my nightmares, in most of them I die. The way I die is always different but the outcome in them is always the same. No one knows that I’ve died. In the end of those dreams I’m a ghost, hovering over my stiff body. It’s my funeral and no one is there. They don’t know I’m gone. Or maybe they just don’t care.
 DamnBlackHeart · Tue Nov 13, 2012 @ 03:19am · 0 Comments |
