I want to write, but the words just won’t come out. As if there are so many of them that they got stuck at the very moment they wanted to get out – all at the same time.
I want to go somewhere, anywhere, far away from people, far away from everyone I know; yet I am paralyzed when it comes to actually getting going.
I want to watch movies, because I have plenty of time at my disposal and absolutely no plan in sight; yet I cannot even bother to look for any movies because I already find them boring.
I want to binge watch TV shows, series, whatever; yet nothing seems to catch my attention for longer than the duration of a trailer.
I want to talk to people, yet I find them all utterly dull, uninspiring to talk to. Nothing interesting to hear from them, nothing in particular to tell them.
When it comes to socializing, a recent encounter with a high school teacher shed some light onto why I actually choose this voluntary incarceration in my room. In fact, I developed this irrational fear of encountering people I know. Now I dread going out, meeting people, former friends, acquaintances, people whose sole interest in my life is whether I got married and had kids in the meantime. The older they get, somebody once told me, the narrower their list of questions gets. What an enlightening thought, regardless of how dreadful it is to me.
If it wasn’t for those weekly visits to my sister and her baby, driving there, having to dress up occasionally, I believe I would have totally sank, mentally, months ago. I am 100% sure of it now. In winter, I didn’t even bother to dress up – just put on a different track suit. Once I even wanted to go without changing, wearing the very same clothes I was in at home, thinking: who cares, I leave the house, I drive, I sit at their place, I come back home at night – no reason to change my clothes whatsoever.
I am not far from that point now anyway, it’s just that summer makes it easier to dress up in the blink of an eye. Just put on a tiered or a tulle dress, something airy, semi-transparent, flowery, and you are good to go. With sandals and a leather bag, maybe even a shimmery lipstick, with virtually no effort, you can transform how you look in a few seconds, literally seconds. That’s what makes it more difficult for people to see how you really feel inside – numb, drowning in your own fears, phobias, screaming, wanting to get away, to hide underneath your blanket, to hug your pillow, and to never go out again. It’s even trickier if you wear high heeled sandals, which make your strut even more charming and effortless, like you’re conquering the world with every step, but only to the inexperienced observer.
So what do I do? I force myself to mingle, to meet with at least one person a day; I force myself to leave the house, to remind myself I once had a life & enjoyed it.
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