I feel like I’m faking being normal. Before I make decisions, I think about every possible outcome in vivid detail. All the way from what would different routes would end up like, to what exactly all the different people involved (directly or indirectly) are going to think or say, and I come up with retorts for every single way a conversation can go before I actually answer or decide what route to go. I can almost even picture exactly what it’s going to smell like in the room I’m about to enter, or the smell of a person that I’m going to talk to. Because of the same reason, I can’t feel any of the things people normally feel.
I always see myself doing things, like am in some sorta of a movie, especially when am doing something real important or when am having a conversation with myself. Its like am constantly performing in front of a crowd. Going back and forth a set character people perceive me to be. I don’t seem to understand as to why the friends who have stuck by me have chose to do that? I wonder with whom I have never pretended and been myself. Its scary when you realize that all that you are nothing but a figment of your hyperactive imagination. Scary that you think you are shit, and you think that you have succeeded in making people believe otherwise in you. There is a monster in me, and I am scared that I cant control it any longer. I can’t feel remorse for any shit I have done. Because I can’t feel. There have been times when I have cut myself just to feel some pain. Just to feel something. To feel alive. Smoking in that case has helped me. I can feel the smoke hit my throat. I can feel that. I can feel pain. But love? joy? happiness? i can feel
It’s not normal because I have no awkward pauses when I’m in any situation thinking all this through since this happens in my head in a split second. I only pretend that I think like everyone else does. I only pretend to feel love, or when I say it. I think I feel it but on more than one occasion I just don’t feel anything. Kinda explains why lot of women hate my guts when I have said I love them but I was just pretending, and the worst bit is that since its so natural for me I don even know that am doing it. And no matter how much I try to explain the boon and the bane bit, I know you just won’t get it. But this is just a confession, I really don’t expect anything. So there you go.
My imagination is abnormal I think. And I pretend am normal. But in fact am just one fucked up kid. Thanks mum and dad, now you get back to hitting each other, abusing each other and beating the shit out of me. Don’t wanna talk about the other abuses now.