I sit here, greatly perturbed. A weight is resting heavily on me and the only thing I can actively think about is how I have this ugly urge to cry. My throat is parched, so I reach for some day-ol’ water in the glass next to me. The dreary, chunky clouds outside seem to reflect my current mood.
I feel so alone.
Ah. There. That sentence triggered a collective formation of tears.
An undeniable urge to do something remains a stone in my chest. Why can’t I remove the chains that are dragging me down… from enjoying life? Do I even want them gone? They are all I know and just today, I realized that that is truly what I’m afraid of the most: floating up into the unknown.
This is not the first time I’ve had such serious doubts about myself and the future. Before I came to Japan, my anxiety shot through the roof and while I wasn’t officially diagnosed, I reckon the sudden sense of doom and emotional outbursts may have something to do with it. Funnily enough, that doesn’t give me any kind of comfort.
As I wrote in my diary, the answers to the problems I think I have may very well be inside of me. I’ve just gotta dig through the junk to find them. And perhaps… they need to be constructed from the bits and pieces I find. I suspect, when I do happen upon them, they’ll resemble the person I used to be.