Truths

Yes, I’ll Take The “Get Me Off This Planet” Meal To-Go, Please

I’ll never understand how after so many successes, one tiny fallback feels like an even greater number of failures. Besides the two hours of sleep I got this morning (7-9), I only got another thirty minute nap after I got home from my first class. The first four or five days of this I was alright and it didn’t bother me much, but now it’s turned into straight up insomnia. My eyes are tired, my body aches, and I want sleep, but I can’t find myself to do it. Usually it’s because my mind has too many thoughts going on but now even that is at a minimum. I’m so damn tired my brain actually got tired–that’s some rare shit right there.

But whatever.

My writing gets huge respects at college. My professor wants to give my paper to someone he knows over the hill who would be delighted to read something like that. So I started off the class feeling great (besides the knives in my eyeballs).

Well, almost great. When I walked in the classroom two people were talking and they both stopped when I sat near them. I feel like they know all the things I write about the class in this blog and I feel like they’ve read it and they hate me. I feel like they think I’m some kind of teachers pet or something. I don’t know. But I feel distanced from everyone in that class. I feel like they’re all giving me the cold shoulder because they know what I’ve written.

Which is weird because I never called them dumb in any of these posts, I just said some of their answers and questions were shallow.

Which I guess sounds stupid coming from the fucking mute of the class. Last week I expressed, in my essay, by pure coincidence, to the whole class that I am not a talker. I can’t think when I speak. This week I got called on (not that I mind) but I’m running on two hours of sleep and I already suck ass at expressing myself verbally, especially about poetry. I loved the 90 page poem, but I couldn’t even squeak that tiny, shallow opinion out. All I could say is um . . . I’m pretty tired tonight.

Great going fucking idiot. I mean, out of all the things I could say . . . that’s what I come up with? My mind went completely blank. And the longer I sat there in silence feeling the two chicks next to me staring at me, the harder my heart thumped and the redder my face turned and the tighter my throat constricted and the more blank my mind went, as if I had a time limit to respond and as if my response needed to be something from the Gods lest I wanted them to hang me at the gallows. Which honestly, in the moment, I wouldn’t have cared if they snapped my neck. He said it was okay and that I didn’t have to talk but that just made me feel like even more of an idiot. Now they all know for real that I’m fucking stupid. That’s what that boils down to. I just know they’re thinking “she’s fucking weird dude” or “aw, that’s sad” or “yeah, not so smart now are you?”. Whatever. Mentally I took about fifty steps backwards in that four second interval of stupidity.

I should have written down some points while we were reading. I fucking know that’s what I have to do in these situations; why didn’t I do that? I know I have to be ten steps ahead of everyone to appear to be stepping beside them like a “normal” person would. I know that. I’ve done it before just to avoid looking like a fucking idiot  like I just did tonight.

So I think about that while I sit there and I start feeling guilty for being a good writer and a shitty talker. I feel guilty for being one of the two other people in the class with native decent (one dude isn’t in the class but he stops by every once in a while; he’s a really eloquent speaker and thoughtful) and making us all sound like idiots. I feel like I let every single native person down in the history of life in that four seconds.

So I came to the logical conclusion that I should kill myself.

Now wait–I’m not going to kill myself. But within the minute of that whole ordeal, what I just explained–getting called on, mind going blank, e.t.c, that was my resulting conclusion: kill myself.

How does that even make sense? How do I go from completely blank in the head to suddenly flooding and then feeling like I shouldn’t live anymore because I’m a disgrace and everyone thinks I’m an idiot? I mean, honestly: I’m impressed. I can’t lie. The brain is a mysterious thing.

Obviously If I break down in the middle of class, I would have looked like a fucking crazy person (ha ha fucking ha) and that would have made the whole situation worse, so I kept sucking it back for another forty five minutes until I was in my car and safe from any of their fucking eyes. I breathed, I focused on other things in the surrounding area like the little blinky light on the back of a bicyclists’ bike or the faded tail light of the car in front of me or the ugly green ass street signs, e.t.c. It helped, actually. My mind got pulled away for a while and I gained control of myself.

Until I stopped paying attention to other things and then they all came flooded back and I listened to my brain say “just shoot yourself in the head, that’s what you should do”.

I swear, I’m not thinking these things on purpose. Sometimes they don’t even feel like thoughts–or at least not mine. And it’s never “I should shoot myself” it’s always “you should shoot yourself” as if I’m not the person in my brain giving me those thoughts.

Ehhhhh . . . I don’t like how that sounds: I don’t believe thoughts are being transmitted to me, I’m just saying it feels like the thoughts are not mine. They happen too randomly, that’s the problem. They’ll pop up while I’m in the shower and I’ll literally say “fuck off” out loud to get them to quiet down. Usually happens in the morning. They’ll pop up while I’m sitting in a group or just chilling with my boyfriend or when I’m trying to go to sleep or when I’m watching a YouTube video. Sometimes it happens a lot of times in one day, sometimes it happens once, sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. I don’t know man, I don’t know.

And it’s not always “shoot yourself” or “kill yourself”, sometimes it’s just things like “well, if you weren’t so fucking stupid” or I don’t know, random things. Things I can respond to with either a “shut up”, a “fuck you” or a “shhhhhh”. I don’t know how to explain this, obviously.

I realized I typed “they”. Well, you know how while you’re reading this you hear that little voice of yours in your head reading to you? It sounds like that except it doesn’t sound like the one I think or read in. I think I say “they” because it’s always more than one thought. I don’t know.

None of that interferes with my daily life besides, you know . . . it’s weird when you have to walk down the street shushing yourself and saying “fuck you” out loud. That tends to turn people off. It annoys me obviously but It’s not that big of a deal, honestly. If it was everyday and it kept me from focusing on things, then I’d be worried. As of now it just bugs me when it happens when I’m already having a tough time–that’s when it’s hard.

As of right now, I feel kind of calm. My legs are still bouncing and my heart is still beating a little fast but writing this all out really helped. Just to be clear, I’m not going to shoot myself. I don’t have a gun, remember?

The sad part in all of this? I can’t remember a word of the second half of class, I was so stuck in my head.

Sleep would probably do me well.

The good news in all this? If those fuckers in my class are reading these posts, they now have definitive evidence that I’m crazy.

About AlishiaDee (372 Articles)
Alishia D. is a blogger, a beginning novelist, and a counselor at 2nd Story Peer Respite house where diagnostic labels and the culture of mental health is long forgotten. She's a mental health peer who has bounced through as many labels as she has doctors, and enjoys being sarcastic when she can. She also hates writing in 3rd person.

4 Comments on Yes, I’ll Take The “Get Me Off This Planet” Meal To-Go, Please

  1. “And it’s never “I should shoot myself” it’s always “you should shoot yourself” as if I’m not the person in my brain giving me those thoughts.”

    I’ve noticed changes like that in my own thought processes before, on a regular basis. It was kind of scary how long it took me to notice it. Over time I came to recognize those voices as my alters, but regardless of what they are or where they come from, you’re not alone.

    Hang in there.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sounds like you just get a little disassociated at times…it’s happened to me before. I once spent an entire summer hearing a voice in my head saying shit to me….but at least it was good shit, and it was in my own internal voice…yet I had a strong feeling that it was the voice of God, or some crazy shit like that….it would say stuff like “I love you”….I’ve always been with, you just couldn’t hear me until you opened your heart to me….and than more mundane shit, like one time I was driving and lost, the voice told me to turn here, and after a short time I wasn’t lost anymore…. Anyway I don’t hear that voice anymore, although I kinda wish I did….beats the fuck out spending money on GPS..ha I guess my point is don’t worry to much…unless you start seriously considering the shit this fucked up voice is telling you ( I know you’re not)…Most genius, and creative types are a little crazy…I own my insanity, and wear it proudly!…LoL
    Have a great kiddo! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ha! “beats the fuck out spending money on GPS” That got me lol. thanks; I agree, unless things get really intense I don’t worry about it too much, it’s just so annoyyyinnngg. I’d rather have your experience lol I get lost all the time. In my own time. On streets I’ve driven a million times haha. I could use a GPS too XD

      Liked by 1 person

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