the room of mirrors

You look at yourself and all you can see are problems that you need to fix.
I wrote that in June, leaving that one line in my drafts. It's weird how you can know exactly what you're feeling in the future. Unless you never stop feeling it.
I'm in university now. So far it has simultaneously been the best and worst experience imaginable. I discovered that I have an incredible amount of things to learn but I am on the right track and I think this is where I need to be. Every opportunity I've had here has helped me grow and learn and develop more than I ever would have expected. Three months here has felt like three years; it's hard to imagine that I have so much more time here. However, that thought becomes more terrifying, knowing that I have that much more to go.
All my fears are surfacing constantly, taking turns breaking through the thin walls I've built. If I trusted my instincts, my arms would be bloody again and I would make my bed my permanent sanctuary. You may be perhaps wondering why I feel this way. Or maybe you already know me well enough to know this is not a rare occurrence. Either way, I will explain, if only for the potential catharsis it could bring.
I'm scared. I'm scared of getting bored, of losing my passion. Have you ever listened to a song that you loved so many times that you get annoyed and stopped? I want to love what I love doing. I don't want to stop loving it.
I'm scared that I'll be forgettable. My mark left on this world will be nothing but a shadow, a vague and uninspired brushstroke in the corner of a masterpiece. I want to mean something. I want to have a purpose. I want to be remembered for more than who I was but how I made people feel.
I'm scared of always chasing people who don't need me as much as I need them. It's been years. Years of constant anxiety and insecurity. Years of silent hope and masked disappointment. And here I am. Almost two decades old and I still feel like I'm begging the people in my life to stay, to want to be here. I want the people I love to love me back. I want them to feel that I am the air in their lungs, not just another star in their galaxy. I want someone to choose me first for once.
I am scared. I am terrified. I don't want to fail. I don't want to be lonely. But I'm not seeing any doors leading out of this room I'm trapped in. All I see are mirrors, reflecting back the image of a girl who is grasping at everything and nothing all at once. All I see are cracks in her armour and the crossed out ink of words left unspoken. I see the fear in her eyes and the rapid beating of her heart. I see her. And I don't like what I see.

what's the point?

How many people in their lives at some point or another have asked what's the point of it all? I guarantee a lot of people nowadays would say they have. Because it's easy to get lost. It's easy to lose track of the meaning of everything. It's easy to wonder at the purpose of life. It's easy because there isn't a Point.

What is your answer when someone asks what's the Point? Let me tell you what I've been told. 

The Point is "to find happiness", "to find peace", "to fulfill your life's purpose (whatever the fuck that means)", "to honour God", "to find love", "to make a difference in the world", "to change someone's life", "to live life to the fullest". Or my favourite, "I don't know but I'm trying to figure it out". 

This is what people desperately cling to and believe in. And it's bullshit.

Because who really knows. I sure as hell won't pretend to. In fact, I don't really believe there's a Point. I run through the list in my head over and over, trying to figure out if anything in my life really has a meaning to it that goes beyond the surface, that really has an impact on my life. And I come up blank every time.

It's so easy to lie to ourselves and try to find meaning in every detail of our lives when in reality, nothing really matters. I don't know why I expect to hear something profound or life changing every time I ask. I think I keep holding onto hope that someone will actually have an answer that will satisfy me. But it's a never ending cliffhanger that I subject myself to daily. 

What's the point of working hard? What's the point of chasing after boys? What's the point of going to church? What's the point of praying? What's the point of taking pills to fall asleep at night? What's the point of telling anyone what's wrong? What's the point of eating healthy and exercising? What's the point of buying new clothes? What's the point of getting good grades? What's the point of going to university? What's the point of auditioning for this scholarship? What's the point of working 7 days a week? What's the point of writing all my feelings down? What's the point of feelings? What's the point of any of it? What's the Point?

Hard work pays off in the long run. How will you find your soulmate if you don't try? To praise and worship God. God hears what you have to say. Sleep is important for your overall health. People love you and they want to help. Good health is key for living a long life. You gotta keep up with the latest trends and so people will like you and accept you. Good grades means a good education. University is a great experience socially and academically, and a degree helps get jobs. You need the scholarship because you can't afford university. Like I said, you can't afford university. Because people get annoyed when you complain too much. It means you're still human, you're still alive. Is there a point? No, there isn't one.

I can ask the questions. I can answer them. Sure you can argue with me about my answers but deep down I think we all know the truth otherwise why would we keep asking? Why would we keep seeking reassurance that everything has a meaning, that we have a purpose?

Personally, I don't want to anymore. I don't want to keep asking over and over "What is the Point?". I don't want to have a Point. I don't want to be here. I'm done.

Go ahead. Tell me I'm giving up, that I'm young and naive and I have family and friends and a whole future ahead of me. So what? Until you can tell me what the Point of everything is and give me an answer that isn't bullshit, I don't care.

an island of i don't know

This bed is an island in the middle of these four walls. As soon as my foot touches the floor, I'll drown. I'll suffocate in the anxiety and uncertainty and loneliness. There's no lighthouse to guide me home. There's no rescue boats coming to save me. I'm stranded with pillows and blankets and the thoughts that keep me awake at night.
I could learn how to swim. I could learn how to float away from all of this. But my tired body aches. My bones are heavy and I find it hard to remind myself to breathe some times. There is no quick fix. Despite what people say, I know I won't ever wake up and feel completely satisfied with my life. I know I can do better. I can be better.
So I guess that just means I'm not trying hard enough. Or I'm trying too hard. I don't know which it is. I don't really know much at all honestly; there's so many questions and I don't have any of the answers.
Tonight, he asked me "What happened to you? You were so happy and living the life you wanted and now you're kind of scaring me. What happened?"
And that's the thing, I don't know.
I don't know what happened.
I don't know what changed.
I don't know anything.
All I can think is I want to go home but I don't know where that is. I'm trying to find some peace and I'm looking in all the wrong places. It's like a never ending game of hide and seek but I don't know what I'm looking for or if I'll ever actually find it.
So I don't know what to do.
I just don't know.

sleeping pills and sleepless nights

It's past midnight. It's dark outside. Most of the world is asleep. I'm sitting on a bed watching the minutes tick away. I don't feel tired. Sitting next to me are a handful of pills. They're supposed to help me sleep. No matter what I do though, I'm always tired.
If you looked at my search history, you would know I'm not okay. If you saw me playing dead on the couch all day, you would know I'm not okay. If you counted the times I've let myself cry in the last week, you would know I'm not okay.
But this isn't a cry for help. When someone is calling for help, they want someone to hear them. I, on the other hand, shut down. I fold into myself, making sure my mess doesn't spill out from between my clenched teeth. I smile and nod, gripping my hands into white-knuckled fists.
I am not going to tell anyone. I can't tell anyone. I can't tell anyone that I only feel in control when I'm looking down into the white porcelain bowl where I just poured the contents of my stomach. I can't tell anyone that I wish I had sped a little more so that truck that ran the red light wouldn't have just scared me but made me permanently breathless. I can't tell anyone that I've recited my lines for my final performance when I tell them not to miss me and that I and everyone else will be happier this way.
It's almost been 19 full years. 19 years and I still can't fix myself. 19 years and I still can't decide who to listen to, the devil or the angel. 19 years and I'm still fighting but I don't know what for. I wish I had better reasons for being sad, for being lonely but I'm just your average messed up kid. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this because I know there is so much more out there.
The world is beautiful and full of magical and mysterious adventures and discoveries. The colours of the sky, the power of the ocean, the feeling when you make someone laugh, the purring of a cat, the atmosphere of fog, the taste of soy chai tea lattes, the euphoria of reaching the top of a mountain, the smell of new clothes, the warmth of the sun baking your skin, the joy in a room of people praising God. Life is beautiful and inspiring. It lights the creativity in my soul. But, you see, that light can only reach so far.
The darkness of fear and anxiety seeps in at the edges, like ink spilled on a fresh sheet of paper. I can try to clean it up the best I can but it always leaves a stain and each time it gets darker and darker. I'm running out of space on my page. I know there's a lot in my life to be grateful and continue fighting for but I don't think I'm strong enough to hold my demons at bay.
So this is my problem: I love life but I don't want to be alive.
This is the Rubik's cube that I keep twiddling around in my clumsy fingers, knowing I don't know how to solve it but wondering, if by some miracle, I will. Eventually, though, my fingers will get tired, my head will start to ache and I will set it down in frustration, giving up the fight.
I have a problem. I can't solve it. Maybe someone out there can. But they're not here. So I guess it's just me and my pills for now.

living with life

It's a new year. I've been away from home for the last two months, travelling. Life continues to move along. For the first time in years, I feel like I'm moving with it.
Taking a gap year was the right decision for me; I just wasn't ready to go back to school, to go back to what was previously such a destructive environment for my wellbeing. What I didn't expect was it to change me so much. Or perhaps change isn't the right word. Growth. I've grown. Being out in the dreaded "real world", away from the stability that school offers and from the people I had previously relied on, was a huge wake up call.
For the first month, I had incredible difficulty making myself do even the simplest things. I started a second job, went to the gym more, starting hiking every week, trying to figure out who I was now that I had graduated and was supposedly a "grownup". But it was all these new additions to my life - that should in theory be exciting and inspiring - that had a bigger impact on my anxiety levels than I had anticipated. In addition to these lifestyle changes, my social circle had suffered greatly after graduation.
Suddenly going from being surrounded by plenty of caring, loving, supportive friends, I had no one. I expected that I wouldn't stay in touch with the majority of the people I went to school with but I had no idea that so many of my closest friends would slip away so quickly. My naivety is somewhat embarrassing but then again I'm young and what goes better with youth than naivety?
So there I was, drowning in a sea of unknown, this being a catalyst for my anxiety attacks. As made clear through past experiences, the bigger the changes in my life, the more time I spend on the floor of my bathroom hyperventilating. In this case, I would lie on the linoleum for hours, shaking and scared of leaving the sanctuary the small room provided. The part I struggled with the most was, with the small remainder of my friends in school or working, I had no one to talk to.
It took time but eventually I was able to get my feet under me, the anxiety shrinking back to the shadows as I faced my problems head on. This process did not appear to be a victory at the time but, when I reconnected with friends from high school, I realized how I was developing into my own person while they were still stuck in the same close-minded and depth-lacking mindset that was present when we graduated.
Looking back, I feel a sense of pride of how I transformed over the last year but I'm still not where I want to be. I know I can be so much more than I am now but it will require change. It will require me to accept and embrace this change and not allow anxiety to slow me down or get in the way.
Life is twisting and turning constantly and I don't want to sit on the sidelines and watch anymore. I'm ready to move. I'm ready to live.