Running From Reality...
So I have officially been up all night, unable to sleep, honestly not wanting to sleep. I find that when I lay down and close my eyes my mind starts to wander. That every moment I'm not doing something to distract myself my mind wanders toward things that I don't want to think about. Whether it's facing the facts of my impending graduation, questioning my sexuality thanks to the decade of self-abuse deterring me from accepting who I am, things I need to get done, people I've left in the past, etc.
Tonight is no different.
The invading thoughts just won't leave me alone. I find myself procrastinating out of fear that purposeful things that will drain my energy and stress me out will fail to distract me from the bothering thoughts that haunt me every semi-awake hour. I dream of darkness and I live in confusion. In those brief moments of clarity before I fall asleep I find myself faced with the truth, with reality, and instead of embracing it and finding a solution and moving on, I run. I run as fast and as far as my mind will allow and I push those borders with every ounce of my strength.
Why?
Because I haven't lived in reality in a long time. Due to my anxiety and depression I've spent the past three years mentally absent from the world around me, paying attention to the absolute minimum. I lived in my imagination and more than that I destroyed myself within there. Sometimes I was supportive and encouraging and other times I was brutal, destructive, and caused harm that I sometimes doubt can be healed.
Wounds caused by others are painful and devastating, they hurt more than anything. And yet in the short time I've been alive I've found out an odd occurrence. That despite this, the wounds that are the hardest to heal, are the ones we inflict on ourselves.
Those are the scars that fail to fade because we continue to tear them back open.
