8
i feel lost. free. but lost.
it is hard to find the exact way to be. as a human. as a person. as a voice inside my own head.
i’m not sure i’m doing any of it correctly. lately i’ve been questioning myself a lot. my self-awareness, my joy, my motivations.
i know that i’m a little freak, inside and out. but i cannot see the line that separates me as a freak from me as a high-functioning young adult.
it is not a mask anymore. it is a fusion, impossible to untangle and separate back into its original state.
12th Century: Herrad of Landsberg's Hortus deliciarum
i always dreamt of a diagnosis because it gave me the illusion that if i knew what was wrong with me, i could solve it. manage it. find the line that would bring a better balance.but i failed miserably.
now you simply know that it is not a temporary fluctuation but a solid, undeniable part of your nature.
being human and nothing more makes me feel miserable. i wish i could have my extraordinary stream of words flowing as it did a long time ago. there was no better feeling than that delusion of another life. another me. another world.
something casually magical and endless. something ancient, but breathing. meandering and enlightening. tactile and ephemeral in its presence.
i miss it.
i miss the weirdness within me.
and for it, i am ready to ruin this tower as many times as needed.