Isolation is one of those things that eats at your soul. It feeds on the scraps of happiness that you cling so tightly to, and it nests in the hollow shell that you become. It’s the voice that protests “I’m fine” or “Everything is good” even when it truly isn’t.
It’s hard to say “I’m depressed” or “I need you right now”. Maybe your life is wonderful. Maybe you’ve got everything you need to live comfortably, but, somehow that makes it worse. You’ve got “no reason” to feel that way, and complaining about the emptiness inside feels…trite. Disingenuous at best, even when you ache so deeply that you feel it in your soul. When all you want to do is just sleep and pretend the world doesn’t exist.
So I’m saying it now, even if it’s just here, where friends and family don’t even know I exist:
I hurt. I need help, and I can’t ask for it, because admitting weakness is a sin. Because life is good enough that I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t feel so empty and alone. I shouldn’t drink to feel lighter, and I shouldn’t pretend like I’m fine when you ask me.
But I do.
My best friend hasn’t spoken to me in weeks, which makes me wonder at the validity of our “friendship”. My husband is horrified at the revelation that I want to start having kids. My family is a thousand miles away, and I miss them more than I can say. My friends are mostly acquaintances.
When I make a true friend, I bond tightly to them, and consider them soul-sibs. But sooner or later they just…walk away, and cease contact with no warning or explanation.
So here I am, alone, with this worm burrowing into my hollow shell. You’d never know me on the street, because I smile and fake happiness so I don’t drag others down with me. But on the inside I’m crying out. And no one seems to hear.
…is pretty much how I’ve been feeling the past few months. Getting Mythic wrapped up bit by bit, though it’s fighting me every step of the way.
I haven’t even touched Black Feathers since June, but as soon as Mythic is done, I should be able to pick it up again.
I have a question for those of you who rp: have you ever gotten so attached to a character that they’re practically an extension of yourself?
I’ve got a good half-dozen characters that I play, but the first one I made…he’s the hidden and not so hidden parts of myself, and I experience his joys and sorrow like they’re my own. When his longtime lover broke it off with no warning, both he and I were horrified, hurt, and physically ill.
Makes me wonder if I’m slightly schizophrenic, that he’s in my head so much, and that I feel what he feels with no barrier between what I know is reality and what isn’t.
Maybe I’m just batshit crazy. That’s entirely possible.
No update on Mythic this weekend as you might have guessed by now. I’m really not happy with how the chapter is turning out and am considering scrapping it and redoing it. I’d rather make you guys wait than post a chapter I feel isn’t up to my personal standards. We’ll see what happens next weekend. Have a great week, my dears!