A month of loneliness

I have not written in ages. I missed this place. Let’s say that my interaction with the outside world has been reduced to the minimum. This mainly because for every action I take, there are tons of demons commenting, laughing, speaking, crying, giving good or bad advice, and the presence of other people in my life is not only superfluous, but intolerable. The amount of information I have to process for every single thing I do is just too much. The friends I have here on OD are the dearest ones, and I missed all of you very much during my silent month. You are the most sincere, genuine and honest friends I ever met. I was just not able to communicate, that’s all. 

As far as the rest of the outside world is concerned – I renewed the contact with the virtual world, but not with the "real" world – I am in touch just with my parents, my English teacher and, most important, Doctor Livio. There was a time in my life where I was very much ashamed of myself. My life seemed to be a failure, nothing was as I had imagined it all in my mind, every step I took was a mistake, and the only place I fitted in was a mental hospital. Then, I regained my pride and dignity again. I stopped pretending not to see people I know, because I did not need to fear the question anymore "What are you doing in your life?". I have projects, a life, targets and motivation. But I notice that, now, people I know pretend not to see me when they cross my way. For example, I happened to meet Pitey’s father at the grocery store, and he passed me by as if I were transparent. I know he saw me, because for a second he let his eyes rest on me, but at the time I wanted to give him a wave he had already disappeared among the counters. It hurts, but then I think… are those people worth my suffering? Not really. 

I have been thinking, in this month of loneliness, that there are fears and images from the past that will always hunt me. The memory of the time spent in isolation, that small green room with that pale blue light, hitting the walls, hurting myself, being my own worst enemy. The deepest fear of Death. I think that this is common to many of us; the fear of losing our dear ones, and the fact that we acknowledge, sooner or later, that we will die one day. I acknowledged it with when I was a 13-year-old, at the time my inner world became more evident; I suddenly realized that there was an end in sight, and that I did not wish to go back in my life, that there was no time I wanted to live again. I think the same nowadays. I fear my illness, I fear it might all become as it was ten years ago. I am just not ready to walk on my own. I am still crawling, if this makes some sense. I am prisoner in a world I don’t understand the rules of. And I have the privilege not to have big worries, because in many places of this world people struggle much more than I do. This could comfort me, but in fact, it does not; it does not because if I can be in so much pain and I am privileged, I don’t even want to imagine in which pain some fellow humans, less lucky than me, must be. This just makes me sad and frustrated, because I feel useless. 

Well, that’s enough for today. I would like to save some time to note you all, and, should I have to interrupt my noting to go cooking, I promise that I will continue tomorrow. I love you all, take gentle care of yourselves!