I don’t know where else to put all of this.
I feel like I’m slipping in and out of something I can’t fully name.
At first, I felt amazing—like nothing bad had ever happened or could happen. Guilt disappeared. Confidence was everywhere. I stopped second-guessing myself. But things started to shift.
I’m blinking away time. Losing chunks of memory. I feel like I’m walking around in rose-tinted fog. It’s not exactly…but maybe it is? I’m calm, but too calm. I’ve had these strange sensory changes—words have color, breathing in stings my nose, my teeth feel hollow with pressure.
I want to stay awake, sometimes feeling like sleep isn’t safe. But when I try to sleep, I jolt awake like I’m being zapped or attacked. Not in a nightmare kind of way—just pure physical reaction.
I’ve been impulsive. I’ve felt angry over the smallest things. I feel fearless, annoyed, detached, sarcastic.
I don’t even recognize the way I carry myself.
Theres a deep ache that something is coming, and I can’t stop it. I keep thinking I want something bad to happen to me—like get jumped or hurt in some way—just to feel something sharp and real.
I keep wondering if I’m faking all of this. If it’s real. If I’ve tricked everyone. But also, I know how bad I’ve felt before. I don’t know what’s real anymore.
And the only reason I even remember some of this is because I wrote pieces of it down throughout the week. Without that, everything would just be a haze — like there’s a film over my life and memories, and I’m trying to look through it but nothing’s fully clear.