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I don’t know why I’m lying to my friends and saying that I’m getting better. I have done nothing but deteriorate in the past few years and I am beyond disgusted at what I became.
I’m not going to say that it feels like I am living someone else’s life. I am living someone else’s life. My self died years ago, and there’s nothing I miss more than its existence. I’m experiencing someone else’s life through my eyes, or at least that’s what it strongly feels like. Everything I do in the (physical) presence of another person is doctored or ingenuine to what goes on inside of my head, without exaggeration on the word “everything”. No amount of paragraphs will represent the disconnect between what people see and what is inside of my head. And this only gets more intense the more time passes on.
I was always the shy academic that only one person in the class remembered the name of, sunken into fiction novels and acing every assignment with grace, with extracurriculars to boot.
I don’t know what this turned into, but what this person is, is not me. It’s an arrogant and self-centered idiot who is apathetic about their own existence, let alone any other conceivable topic, while obsessing over the same topics day-in and day-out. And there’s nothing I hate more than them. This is the complete opposite of my character that I’ve known my whole life. This isn’t a normal personality shift into adulthood. I am not the same person.

I can’t even physically represent myself the same way with the same freedoms that other people can. This is already hellish, but it isn’t the only aspect. I’m sorry for myself and the others who have first met me within the past few years. This is not me, and I only wish that people could meet the (for lack of a better word) real version of me. Though I guess, this is the real me now…

This character who is down-to-earth (either sarcastically or realistically), emulating emotion, impatient, and making demands, let alone, asking for anything, is not me. I keep meeting many people who remind me of myself. I get so close to them and see a reflection that I would like to be close with, yet both my mind and selfish obsessions often forbid it. I’m fully aware that I am going insane, and I need help that I won’t allow myself to get. Asking yourself why you have done some action, that you had no intention to do, gets tiring. It is certainly as if there is a devil inside of my brain interrogating me on why I’ve done an action, while expecting a response. And I often even respond to it with my voice before realising that I’m completely alone. Existing without having absolute control of your own decisions and actions is hellish.