pulling off my own year of rest and relaxation -in a month

June 26th, 2025

It’s been a few weeks since I last tried to even write out how I’ve been feeling, not because I didn’t want to but mostly due to my lack of comprehension of my own surroundings. I have become muted to my own feelings and thoughts, but there is always some background noise reminding me I must address the root of the problem.

I’ve lost a lot of weight. I am not drinking, I am not smoking, I am not getting high, but I’ve been sleeping for too long. I’ve wasted so many days immersed in my own suffering, but maybe that was the only way for me to actually be woken up, although I am not sure if I am awake now. If anything, I’m more aware of the pain I hold, both physically and mentally. I just wanna feel like a human being again, not just a ghost trying to inhabit an empty shell of the man I used to be until a few weeks ago.

Being awake represents a huge toll on me nowadays, that’s nothing new but it has only worsened ever since my biggest crash out to date. I am not really sure of how this is going to end, but I have a lot of things to go through in order for me to be reborn and go back to sanity as soon as possible. I don’t mean to speedrun my journey, but I do wish there was some kind of shortcut for me to take, even if it sounds like a cowardly thing to do.

Prior today, I can barely remember how my days have looked like. I wake up late, barely eat anything and mostly focus all day on wondering if I am having a panic attack or not. All of these whilst I burn my eyes and braincells by mindlessly scrolling through X, YouTube, or Reddit; I just want to distract myself as much as possible, maybe by making fun of someone or relishing the fact some random guy might be having an even worse time than me, but the truth is I only rely on background noise so I don’t lose my mind even more. And that’s how my days blend into one another, and how 17 days have gone by without me even noticing.

Two days ago I read my very first entry here, a letter that wasn’t supposed to be sent but I sent anyway, and I think since that night I haven’t been able to get rid of the lump in my throat, which is now a constant reminder of my-best-friend-situation.

I’ve been taking too many pills to fix whatever’s wrong with my body at the moment. I eat mostly because I have to but if it were for me I wouldn’t take a bite. I sleep at least 14 hours a day again because I am relying a little too much on some pills that are supposed to doze me off whenever I feel it’s totally necessary to stop panic attack symptoms, and I wish it wasn’t that way but how else am I supposed to deal with it when I feel like I am constantly on the verge of throwing myself out of the window? The world is quiet yet too loud and I can’t stand being awake under these circumstances.

I feel so ungrateful for the life I’ve been handed to live. If one gets to really think about it, what kind of person can allow themselves to do absolutely nothing for more than two days that are not weekends? It makes me feel so guilty to even be complaining about this opportunity of wallowing in my own pain. I am privileged for this time and not having to worry too much about money or other kinds of societal constructs that can keep a human being held at gunpoint if not pursued nor followed. And what makes me feel the worst of ways is that I am not truly doing something beneficial for anybody, not even for myself, and it’s not because I don’t want to, it’s because I lack the energy and my brain is foggy all of the time.

I am trying to rely on myself, but I do question my own thoughts a lot whenever I can’t stop shaking out of nowhere, or when I have to wake up my aunt in the middle of the night so she can hold me while my heartbeats slow down after I woke up because of how fast my heart was racing. I question myself so very often and I am not sure if I am capable of being completely alone at this time of my life despite already having to live this day for so long.

I am tired and I am exhausted and I am burned out and I just simply am, nothing else. And I hate how much I have to rely on my family to keep alive, and I hate how all of a sudden my world changed, and I hate that I can’t quite get any other answer from my therapist besides “it’ll go away, you just have to be constant.” I don’t wanna be constant, I wanna be sure I’ll be fine. I had already hit rock bottom a while ago, but these past two weeks have been more excruciating than anything else. I just wanna be safe, I wanted to be safe and I wanted to be held, but now I don’t know.

In fact, I am not even sure of where this entry is taking me. I am writing just because I can; it doesn’t feel liberating, it doesn’t feel thrilling nor scary, it doesn’t feel like anything. All I can think is I am a waste of time and space, and that maybe someone was right when they said those words. How do I get rid of that? How do I go back to enjoy being awake? I just want to be okay.

I could tell this to anyone, but I know no one would understand me the way I used to be understood.