there i am. 
sitting at a table with four other friends.  we’re having something to eat together as we talk. 
i know the, it’s not the first, second or third time i’ve met up with them. i don’t usually have to mask too much around them– we joke about everyone being neurodivergent in there and we’re somewhat certain of it. the vibes are .. okay 

  . . .  i check my watch again with no good reason, my head is aware of the passing of time and i Have to know what time it is. 

i try to refocus on the conversation. it’s genuinely interesting. but for some fucking reason She pops into my head. fuck you.  you did nothing wrong and have no reason to hate you but your memories run rampant in my head like a wildfire that i barely have any say over. for a second i could forget you. 
i take a slightly longer than usual breath and blink long.  [REDACTED] notices and looks at me a little odd and asks me,  Всё хорошо?
 .. i pause for a second and say,  да, всё хорошо. and softly shake my head some as we both share a silly and shy smile. 
it worked, she was none the wiser of what fucking mess is going through my head, and did it in a way that noone else cared or stopped conversating, just a small poke through the fabric of the conversation, and one that didn’t even alter it nor cause anything to happen or any attention to be redirected.  good. 

yet. 
the entire time, my head is just.  

full.   

i can’t escape it, i am not normal, or sane or well.  i asked two people so far and– even though [READACTED2] said that she also felt. similar in her mood being offset and defaulting to a “non-standard” stance, we both acknowledged it was atypical 

and i don’t know.  i don’t know, i don’t know, i don’t know, i don’t know. 

 i feel isolated, cold, useless replaceable. 

and even when i try to work around those thoughts and think about the individuality of the “self” and how i matter due to being statistically and realistically the only person who will ever be “me” (or us, rather, but i digress), i find myself in no better state of mind or see any answers.  i still feel average, mediocre and unimportant. isolated, lonely, disconnected and parallel to everyone around me in a way that i STILL cannot describe after hundreds upon hundreds of words, after kilobytes' worth of writing, after multiple hours' worth of continuous recording and processing. 

i still don’t fully fucking know why i do this,  *vaguely pointing at this entire website*. noone fucking reads it and it doesn’t matter. i am still mentally ill and i will still be alone at the end of the day. and people will still come and go and “change is inevitable” and yadda-fucking-yadda. 

so why bother? why do? why change? why exist? why matter? why improve why———–

  …

 ..
 i feel like i am losing grips with my sanity.
sailing through whatever the fuck it is that i have to live through. 
in this blurred line between disassociation and Excruciating awareness of self. 

so then again. 

why do i bother? 

i am barely online, barely social, barely acknowledged and barely acknowledge others back (socially speaking). 

it feels lonely inside my head, lonely when i’m in company and lonelier when i lay with my thoughts, when i try to ignore the nightmares that sometimes haunt me– bittersweet dreams, stingy memories or devilish fantasies that feel like gut punches aimed straight towards my soul. 

i dont know. 
i can sleep but i can rarely rest.  i’m starting to believe in the lack of belief, as if existing through some morbid curiosity inspired not by the willingness of existing, but by the lack of means and willingness to die (yet). 

..  so i dont know.  the only thing i know is that it keeps getting colder and harder to push every day. 

i hope i can survive what feels like a nuclear winter inside my head. 
or at least that i will survive a little longer.  or not. 
anything goes at this point.

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