Dear Diary, Reality

My reality is destroyed.

It’s never been this bad. I didn’t even know it could get this bad. I commented on a post on Facebook earlier today, just to look back at it later and wonder if it was even me who had commented. If it was me, how the hell did I do it? How could I? I feel so crazy, I have no idea how I even still know how to use my phone to post on Facebook, how I carried on that conversation I did for twenty-three seconds, how I even know my name. Surely this isn’t typical. Are there others around pretending to be normal every second of every day as they wither away inside? Or do they just embrace the insanity for what it is?

I feel like I’m living this double life. I always have, but this is different. I wake up in the morning, this person all of these people know, stripping away the layers of faux sanity until I walk into that gray door and it is all gone. As the hours pass, I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I’m losing my fucking mind.

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I sure as hell can’t work. I’ll be lucky if I don’t die right here and now. All I can do is stare at that clock, wishing away the minutes until I can get in the car and get back to the person in the morning that all those nice people know. This isn’t me. I’m broken. Everything is broken. I feel so trapped. I never thought this would be me again, looking over my shoulder for the ultimate entity that will be my demise, but here I am. Here I am, knowing that everyone here thinks I’m crazy, even though I’m not. I’m not.

Right?

**Dear Diary is a weekly OCH feature wherein the writer is free to share thoughts anonymously.

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2 thoughts on “Dear Diary, Reality”

  1. I don’t think your crazy. I think you just really suffer. It’s horrible. What you’ve explained is between me seeing and hearing thins and wanting to end it. I just can’t function. I really hope things get better.

    Like

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