I found a note on my phone that I wrote during the second lockdown during Covid 19. Reading about this makes me feel proud, because I managed to overcome most of it one year later.
2 Apr 2020
I’ve read an article recently that basically said that we postpone what we really want to do, always thinking “I don’t have time to do it, it’s a shame because I would love to pursue it” and then, all of a sudden, we are confined at home and unsurprisingly we cannot find the motivation to do it.
I feel it too, and it is very frustrating. I always thought I would have loved to have time to write more, to learn a language, to open a blog. But now that I am in this quarantine I don’t want to do any of that. I try, and I do it because I impose myself to, but I don’t really feel anything. And I have realised something. The thought that we could be better only if we had more time to, that is a powerful drug. I have caught myself quite a lot of times thinking “oh, look I have a good thing to write down, shame I cannot do it now, I have to go”, confident in my desperate research of some meaning that that is my true dimension, if only I could try.
Wrong. That is an illusion. Illusions are drugs: they make us feel comfortable, excited, hopeful towards situations we could be experiencing, stuff we could be doing, and one day we swear we will do it, but for now they are there, in our thoughts, and that is enough. Well guess what? Now that that lie just isn’t here anymore, I suddenly feel how mediocre I am. And I hate mediocrity. I want to be someone for myself. I don’t want to become anything for anyone, but someone for myself. And I have no idea how.
I also struggle with depression, and numbness, so coming up with something to do is really not easy. And in this mental state I don’t even know which feelings are actual ones and which others are generated by my situation. Everything that gives me a little bit of joy becomes so important, because feeling is a drug to me. So alcohol is important, a new person that could interest me is important, likes are so important. But all of this is just pure drugs. It’s evident about alcohol, but the others ones are addictive just as much. Likes on Instagram? It’s awful to admit it, but it’s nice to be considered, while in fact they don’t mean anything. But they are a drug to me. The unknown about a person makes you want to find out even more about them, and the insecurity of “Do they like me? Don’t they?” is one of the most powerful drugs I’ve experienced. It’s not even about actually liking them or being liked back; its about the mystery. And that can’t be fun anymore if everything comes to reality.
How many times I’ve fantasised without any real intention of anything? Too many. And this is because I’m aware of the fact that 90% of those feelings aren’t real. I’m so scared to be alone that in fact you can hug me and I’m yours. But I am also so aware of this that I often do not express what I feel. It’s a tricky situation, the one in which you don’t know if you feel they way you feel because you are lonely or because it’s real. I so wish this could go away.
Image credit: https://images.app.goo.gl/2fowyo7CfZ3N8uoB8
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