Some years ago, as a therapy assignment, I wrote a piece that illustrated how I experienced and perceived the world. It told how I lived in a world of twilight and darkness, looking out onto the world of light, wondering at a world that I didn't live in, a world of beings who didn't see the dark and unsafe things in my world.
"So she built walls and landscapes and castles with high inaccessible towers, and she populated her lands with magical creatures and loving people, but she still yearned and the pain stayed inside her walls, keeping her company. And even when the walls finally burst and broke and fell, she still had one wall remaining, one quiet hidden prison. This prison hemmed in her unlovability, the thing you must never admit to, neither to the world nor even to yourself. To admit to it would only make the lovable ones feel uncomfortable, awkward. As if their worlds were somehow missing something. As if something important were hidden from them. As if they'd done something wrong."
i my perceptions and experiences haven't changed that much, except that right now, at least, I don't feel I'm in so much darkness as dusk, or perhaps a very flat, gray light that leeches the color, contrast, and depth from the scenery.
I also feel as if I am separated from the people around me by a glass barrier. I can see them; I'm not sure they can see me. But I cannot touch them. I am outside, excluded. Other. When I am detached, this separation is simply something I perceive. When I feel, this separation pains me.
Did I mention that I Don't like to feel?
I'm tired of this. I wonder if I will ever get better (hence the despair). I wonder if I am expending useless effort toward an impossible goal.
That's really all I've got to say right now.
I don't know what to say besides the obvious: I love you.
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