Is it a myth of meant to be?
Another night while I wake up hyper focused on that aching hitting me like a crashing wave. It rushes over me like a wave of mixed agony and despair. Sometimes, I feel like a supernova.. just imploding over and over over time with only a “beautiful shiny” light coming through. This is so complicated to write.. I didn’t think it would be like this. I think I need a minute.
My body is my enemy.. always retrieving the trembles of the past without a warning.. they just sneak up on me like a screamer killer yet I’m deaf as night.
I have no corner to run up to.. I’ve spent my entire life running.. just running in circles with nothing to do except chasing my shadows. Everything else is a far memory. But tonight, the rejection and loneliness just hit even harder.. the night I was diagnosed with ADHD and actually read about it.
All of the shame, rage, emotional struggles, the burden of being a burden, the intensity and the all or nothing in everything. There was no map to guide me throughout all this time. The rushing of responses and thoughts that always, always seems like a deafening death threat. The bells of my arrival yet my departure.
Nothing’s ever this simple with me. But then why when I’ve found my divergence it feels even lonelier and not comforting as I hoped? I think I’ve always lived in a mistaken life or a stolen soul or a stuck mind. I feel so far away from myself yet so close to her. The dissociation of it all.
To find out that all of those vivid daydreams were just me shutting down by my own rules. All of my avoidance was just me seeking comfort and freedom but in the wrong places in the most lethal pace. Always extremes, not balance. The messiness was not my pattern as I believed it’s just an abyss of time blindness and sensory overload.
Oh how I feel to not feel so non-existent. Always dysfunctional and behind. Always pushing the dominos to find them flying above my head.
At this point, it’s not even a rollercoaster, it’s much more of a trampoline.. or walking the line to find a heaving pack of wolves gnawing at me. Only again, to find them my senses striking and beating me up to dream of “normal”.
The scared child in me, is just begging … begging for the time of being released from those thistle chains called life.
