an introduction! wow! who am I!
today’s question I want to answer in my personal diary series thing is “how would you describe your personality” because who doesn’t love talking about themselves.
In acronyms and analogies, I’m the ENTJ who seemingly rules the world with “brilliance” and “confidence”. I’m Slytherin who is not quite self-obsessed as much as “putting myself first”. I’m a Sagittarius who works alone and may quite possibly outlive everyone on a desert island because I don’t need human interaction. Debatably (assuming I carry the will to live), but you get the point.
My favorite word to describe myself is “wallflower”. If I had to compare myself to a fictional character, it would be Bianca from The Duff novel, who supports deconstructing societal norms (also, I’m a massive supporter of the “friends with benefits” ideology or, at the very least, sleeping with someone you may not be “dating”). I observing everything and absorb nothing. My mind is open and I try to understand different viewpoints (unless, of course, it hurts another person or just supports a system built by old white dudes for old white dudes).
I don’t know. I don’t want to be perfect, but I want to be somewhat like a normal person. I want to have friends and go out and laugh and do stupid shit and just be like a person. Instead I feel like I’m wearing a suit made of bubble-wrap and watching the world happen through someone else. I’m living but I’m not alive. My personality consists of traits of your basic rom-com female lead: kind, stubborn, doe-eyed, innocent, youthful, you get the gist. If I could, for a second, be someone, anyone else, I would. I feel stuck in one of the rooms in an asylum where they feed me through a crack in the wall and put blocks on my hands. When I look in mirrors, I see someone else. I don’t know who I am and I feel like, at this point, I should have some general idea.
I’m pieces of the stars and the earth and everything in between. My personality is ever-shifting from bright tulips in Spring to the firewood ambers in Winter. I wish I had control, but I wish I didn’t need control.
I used to be a wallflower. I would sit back and watch people and mimic their movements. How to talk, how to walk, how to breathe, how to live. I became a compilation of any person I had ever seen who smiled like they enjoyed their life. I became a compilation of emotions I did not have.
This isn’t to be sappy. This isn’t to be pitied. I’m a girl who doesn’t know how to be ‘normal’. I’m a girl who is stuck, or trapped – really, in her own mind. There are days where I feel real, where I can smell nutmeg and feel raindrops on my nose and feel comfort beneath blankets. I live through a TV sitcom that I have never seen and laugh with people I’ve built in my head. But there are days where my heart beats so fast I think I might choke. I wish I would choke. I sit on my hands because my nerves are alive and their one goal is to claw at my face until I bleed. Muffled sounds in my head become whispers that become voices screaming that my place on this planet is a waste of space and if I try to fight back my nails will rip apart my thighs until they’re too thin to carry me . There are monsters in my head who have stuck around longer than any friend I’ve ever had and I worry if they’ve created my personality and who I’d be without them. If I’m left alone for too long I’ve been told I become catatonic. My insomnia is made up of inner demons who play poker in my head and shoot thoughts around the room. A day can only be as good as they let it.
I’m doing well. I can still breathe okay and have happy moments. No one understands my mental illness and that’s okay. I think I can handle it alone. I try to, anyways.
I just want to make inner peace.
This is not for pity. This is not a call out post. I want people to know. Loud noises scare me because of PTSD. I’m always to blame for arriving late to places because my demons told me no one cares. There are days, weeks that go by where I feel high as the clouds and everything is flowers and I can’t imagine how I’ve been so sad for so long. There are nights where I lie awake until the sunrises and wait for someone to wake and help me slip beneath the sheets. I feel like I’m raising a toddler, relearning how to act in front of people. My brain is slow and my thoughts move fast and my comfort comes from a cat and ratty sweatshirt. I wish I had someone who could help me walk and teach me to stand until my mania arises again and has me ziplining through life.
I’m okay, though. I’m okay because I only have myself and I’ve learned to be okay with that.