Saturday, March 28, 2015

I'm Not Sure (Or Yeah, I'm A Borderline)

I'm not sure if you know me.
I'm not sure that I want you to.
I'm not sure if I know myself, or what I want, or who I'm going to be when I grow up.
I'm not sure that I even AM going to grow up, I might just be a scared little kid trapped in the body of someone who is more than old enough to vote and buy booze, tobacco products, and firearms for the rest of my life.
I'm not sure that I am making the right choices. Am I doing this for me? Or someone else? Is my smile fake and my words as artificial as my hair color? I'm not sure.
I'm not sure if I'm striving for my own happiness, or if I'm just trying to make everyone else content.
 I'm not sure if I should keep taking these pills, or even if they really work. I take them because everyone says I should. They say I need them, that they are the solution to my problems. They say I'll feel better. They say a lot of things.  I'm not sure if they're all true. Medication can't change circumstance.  Of course, I won't stop taking them, because maybe they are right. Like I said, I'm not sure.
Someday, soon enough, it'll be okay. Those are words I hear a lot, but I'm not sure I believe them anymore. I need more tangible proof, something a little more concrete than just an exhalation of breath formed into syllables and sentences.
I'm not sure if I'm asking too much or not enough. I'm not sure if I am walking alone or in the company of others. Or if I should walk at all.
Maybe you're right, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's the other way around. I used to know, or at least I thought I did. Now I'm not sure. It's all so confusing these days. The line between black and white has blurred to gray and I'm just not sure of the answers anymore. I'm scared to be wrong, but even more scared to be right. Because being right comes with a certain responsibility that I'm not sure I can handle at the moment. One thing I am sure of is this... I'm not sure of anything right now. I apologize for the inconvenience and any other negativity caused by this. I spend countless hours thinking and stressing about what my disorder is doing to others. I want to be typical and bland to appease you, not some psyche ward, drama queen nut job that makes you worry and gives you sleepless nights. Please understand, I can't help the way I am. I'm not doing it on purpose, or vying for attention. Believe me, no one wants to live in my overly analytical, anxious, nervous, depressed, sometimes up, sometimes down brain. It's hell. If you are someone who understands and is living this, thank you. If you're not, I'm not sure that you'll be able to quite grasp any of this. But try to open your mind.  Regardless of whether you comprehend or not, enjoy being normal. I'm not sure I will ever get that chance.