Apparently I’m still alive.
I don’t feel it.
If I’m honest I’m not sure what I feel. Not now. Not today, nor yesterday, nor a thousand days before.
There are hundreds of words in the dictionary that might describe how I feel but they all seem…inadequate. Or not quite right.
Truth is, they don’t carry the depth of the feeling I’m trying to get across. They seem…inadequate. There’s that word again. It’s like the right word is on the tip of my tongue, tantalisingly close, teasing me but then, when I reach for it, it becomes formless and disintegrates, slipping away into the ether.
I’m barely functioning. I’m existing. Not living. I can’t even consider myself low functioning these days. I’ve betrayed my tribe. I no longer belong. I don’t feel Autistic. I don’t feel.
I’m numb. Not comfortably numb. I feel anaesthetised. In a soporific state, a fugue like state, I feel removed from life. I no longer associate with myself. I am no longer sure who I even am.
I’m angry. But I’m not. That’s not the word. It’s not the right word. It’s a word.
I feel like I’ve given up. There’s nothing solid. Nothing to grab hold of. Perhaps there’s nothing here ?. Nothing seems real. It’s not a dream state but it’s not real. It’s dissociative. I am no longer connected…
I want to rip myself apart. I want to push my fingers into my skull and pull out whatever’s hiding in there. Is it the real me ?. I feel trapped inside myself. I can see out but I can’t do what I want to do. I can’t be me. Whoever I am. Whatever I am..
I’ve lost myself. I don’t know, now, who or what I am. What am I doing ?. Why ?. There’s nothing real here.
I can’t recall.
What did I do ?. When ?.
Why is this happening ??????????
Why function ?.