Fear of living

I make a lot of clamour in my mind. I always have at least 7 tabs open at once. I have 5 books bookmarked. Some books I read in a random order; open a page and read it if the chapter’s interesting. I have the exact same routine; wake up, turn on pc,go to the bathroom to freshen up, come back,take my 2 Sertraline pills, open my inbox,then youtube,then dailymail ( even though I hate it), then back to youtube to watch any new podcasts or shows,then i might log into skype.

I stick to one thing. I never understood this. I’m averse to finding new stuff online. I’m commitment phobic in that way. Picking a movie to watch is a painful and tedious process of researching,comparing,biding my time. It’s like that show bachelorette, only I’m picking and eliminating movie titles and not guys.

I’m organized, but not because I’m a neat person. I like to know where everything is as I can’t stand having to look for something. It’s so annoying when that happens; something I thought I placed in a certain place not being there when I need it. I don’t have time to look for stuff.

I munch on the same junk, even if it’s lost its appeal because better the devil you know…

I purposely constricted the perimeters of this maze I call life. I didn’t know why until now. I didn’t know why I oscillate between hyperfocus on one topic that I pour my soul into and abject apathy and ennui.

Until I sat down to write about it. This background noise chaperones me. I can’t be left alone to my own devices. I don’t dare be alone when silence falls and darkness shrouds my mind. I’ve been there many, many years ago and I got out once, won’t go back there. I’m a nomad,a fugitive. The lights never go out in my mind, the party never ends, the clamour never dies down. As I live in fear, my life goes unlived in the dungeon I fled.

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