I’m in this weird mental state where I can see everything falling apart around me, the ground crumbling beneath my feet, my entire world collapsing in on itself and I’m… fine. I’m good. Things are as bad as I can currently imagine them, but I’m either too numb or in some kind of shock. I can’t muster the energy to give a fuck. I feel concern but I don’t feel the crippling worry I usually do when shit gets bad. Where I’d normally be anxious and panicked, I’m just… fine. I’m not stressed, though I know I should be. I’m aware that everything is bad and getting worse, but I’m oddly calm. I’m more scared of my lack of worry than my actual, horrible state of existence. Have I reached peak apathy or is this shit building up, a floodgate waiting to be opened? I won’t dwell on it too much because, for the moment, I’m fine.
I’m choosing to embrace frivolity because, real life is too much for me to handle at the moment. I’ll be present, but not active. My life will be all distraction all the time until I can healthily cope with my shit and everything else. If I have to lose myself in books, or film and television, I will. I’m not here for anything but my own mental well-being. I’m about conveniently ignoring anything that will send me into a depression or an existential crisis. If that makes me selfish, so be it.
I’ve started a lot of posts and just scrapped them because, I feel like they’re not… enough. I feel like I’m not black enough, not feminist enough, not woke, not present. I feel like the shit I want to talk about is not serious enough or not real enough. Like, there is real shit going on in the world, and I’m like… “but why nobody talking about Under The Dome, though?” I kind of don’t want to make noise if I’m not saying something substantial, but on the other hand, I’m not that fucking deep. I am deeply apathetic. Not in the sense that I don’t care, but more in the sense that I barely have enough strength to tolerate my own life; I literally cannot deal with all that bigger shit right now. So I’m sitting here like… Are my frivolous thoughts even valuable? Probably not. But, should that keep me from engaging? I don’t know. Maybe.
I feel fucking invisible, now. I’m not sure that making noise will equate to being heard, but… maybe, just fuck it.