Yes. I suppose I do run away. I do shut the world out (as best I can) from time to time. I stop replying messages, not that I get a lot of them, but you know. I’ve never been one for phone calls from the beginning, so anyone who really knows me would know not to call.
I don’t know. I guess it just gets tiring, trying to keep up with the world. What, with this anxiety and all, it really doesn’t make it any easier. These thoughts, they come and they overwhelm me every now and then. I’d start obsessing about things I cannot change, and there begins my journey down the slippery slope.
Still trying to figure life out. Still trying to see what works, and what doesn’t, and I suppose it’s a process that never ends. It is, after all, a part of life. At some point I would probably say that I am sick and tired of people leaving, how they get up so easy and just walk out of your life. The truth is, I am not. The tragedy of it all is that I’ve come to expect it, so much so that when it happens I basically just shrug it off. It hurts, sure, but it’s different now. It happens, I tell myself. I don’t blame myself all that much anymore, it’s not healthy, so they say.
The anxiety, the thoughts, and the eccentricities aside, I think one of the hardest things for people to understand is the need for solitude. We are social creatures – there’s no denying that, yet, we’ve fallen into the common misconception that we constantly need to be around others and not isolate ourselves. We do this, so that we stay relevant. We do this, so that we are needed, or rather, we feel needed and valued. I want to be invisible sometimes, or maybe, temporarily non-existent.
If I could pluck myself out of reality and not exist in the worlds others, albeit just for a while, I would find peace. These thoughts will have no power over me. You hear it all the time, how people tell you that you shouldn’t let the thoughts of other people bother you. You shouldn’t let the negative things in your life bring you down.
But they do. They really do. Why deny it? To deny feelings, even if they are not pretty, is to deny life, and living. You get down, and then you get up, eventually. You don’t pretend not to fall.
You don’t stop breathing – you stop to catch your breath.