Tried watching a movie. Started getting anxiety 10 minutes in. It sucks. I sigh and after reminding myself that it’s ok to not be able to go through with some of the things I want to I close down my laptop and lie down with Drake’s new album helping me dissociate.
I feel handicapped. I can’t do anything that needs planning or any forethought because my mind is rabid with the mental projections. What’s worse is that I don’t know why it’s like this, I don’t know what it is and I don’t even know how to go about describing it.
So I just fall back on the safe limitations of what I know. My mind can depend on what I know. It can go off. Is the world always going to be this precarious for my mind? I think I’ve done so much progress then when I get tripped up by the most mundane of things I collapse in on myself. I can’t let myself go beyond this. Suicide lies across that threshold. It’s deadly for my mind to try to tackle the restraints on me. I fall back on trusting Allaah. It hurts. I wish I could understand what’s happening to me but I can’t. I’ve been a prisoner in my own body for the past decade. I can’t even solicit outside help because I don’t know why I’m feeling this. I have to be my own engineer, psychologist, archeologist, sociologist. I’m an alien with alien ailments. I wish this was a hyperbole. With all that I know, I’m still a mystery to myself. The one thing I fear is myself. It’s been like this since I was 4. I could perceive things that my mind would malfunction tryna analyze.
What happens when your heart is a psychic and your brain a genius?
T o r t u r e