Is it burnout that I have the urge to do more work but I feel so suffocating, the opposite of butterfly in my stomach and the tendency to walk around my room finding something more to do, yet demotivated? I know what to do, the next step, the next stage but it’s heavy for me to move. So much is going on that I can’t say, not because I’m unable to, but I make it sound like it’s not a big of a deal. I want to reach out, then I started to overthink their reactions, their possible answers to my questions, the suggestions that maybe the opposite which aches my heart, fighting with my own brain on what is right and what is wrong to me and also to them. In between going insane and to stay sane, I can’t do both. Or I can, I do not want to, but I have to. The complication that I want you to listen to, not to suggest, to argue, to answer but to listen. I think that I’m in pain, probably mentally and I kept denying by saying that it’s not important on what I feel. What matters is the result, yet I know it’s the opposite. I hate that I know what is wrong, I keep shifting away from my own direction, distracting myself from overthinking, still do by overthinking other things. Writing this down recalls me of how I used to survive through it in silence. Am I going back there? Going back to the time that I shut myself through hours of sleep, closing my ears with hundreds of hours’ worth of songs, thinking of what am I doing here in this room, what is my role and why do I have to play along just for the sake of to being number one spot on human interaction to be compared with. It was cold, I created numbers of alter egos to keep me sane and to escape from reality. Which made me realized that it was stupid and funny, but I’m glad that I put so many masks to see different colors on people’s face. Today, despite the fact I can say no to the things that I do not want to do, to the people that I do not want to be with, I flinch. The fear pulls me down and I have to react fast again, and again, and again.
It does not matter how many years have passed, and my past will always cling right on my back, as a token to remember that made me who I am today, and also memories that drag me down.