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I Don’t Know What’s Wrong With Me

I don’t know if I actually feel anything. I cry and I laugh and I smile, but at this point it feels comparable to blinking when something gets in my eye. Instinctual, a necessary function to preserve myself. I keep old photos of periodic obsessions that were taken in secret and my heart begins to well up whenever I see those girls but I can’t tell if I loved them or if I loved the fantasy I lived out with them in my mind, or if I even loved them at all. I’ve started college in these past few days and it’s not really the quarantine that gets to me because I’ve become fond of isolation. The thought creeped into my mind before I came here that I was better than some other people because I made it to college, a good one at that. But there’s no room for pride in me, it was foolish to think there was. Anything that is real inside of me I either express or more likely push back until I’ve convinced myself it doesn’t exist anymore until one day it’s too much and the whole tower topples. I can feel the bed beneath me move like I’m in constant motion, it’s disorienting. Here I am, writing on an anonymous message board in an attempt to see something I couldn’t before. I can’t. Goodnight.

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Re: I Don’t Know What’s Wrong With Me

This is the first I've read something like this. I've recently had this same realization in the past year or so maybe a little longer. I feel like a piece of me is missing that everyone else has.I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I II I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I II I I I I I I I I I II I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I II I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I II I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I II I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I II I I I I