They say dissociation is like watching yourself in a boring movie, hyper aware that something is terribly, terribly wrong.
You’re in your own head, but outside your body – staring at a reflection that you can’t seem to recognize as your own.
But it’s hard being in your own head all the time.
No one else has to hear the million tiny voices inside your head, all saying different things for different reasons at different times. Making you feel different.
No one else would want to know me if they knew the things I kept locked tightly behind a door, nailed shut and set alight, for fear of what might come tumbling out of the void.
My mind moves, but my mouth doesn’t. If only people heard the words I wanted to say. If only what I felt and what I said weren’t on two completely different planets to each other, living completely separate lives.
My facade of self-confidence is hiding a self-loathing so deep I don’t know how to stay afloat. I simply sink deeper into the depths of this unhappy existence, all made up inside my mind – sabotage of the self.
I float in a world where no one else exists, and the smallest sounds echo, and my only friend is my reflection – which doesn’t even look like me.
Maybe one day the person I see in the mirror will be someone recognizable and capable of talking back. Standing up. Having a voice. Able to make waves and swim out of the cave I’m in and back to shore.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to find a home, where the house is warm, and there’s tea on the counter and I won’t have to drown anymore.