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Why is it that I serch to give life mening even though I know it does me no good at this moment? It is natural for someone of medium intelligence to actually ask himself conciously about his purpose, but wouldn't I be happier if I just let life run it's couse? Don't I deserve a "normal" life, am I cursed to constantly just go on and on in my own head, banging my head onto brick walls while my phisical shape is worsening?
From a young age I relised not only that I'm unique, but different from the rest. I never stood out in a crowd, not because I'm like everyone else, but because no one noticed me. Never needed any special attention, most times not even attention, I was mostly left alone, to do my own thing. You just had to feed me when I was a child and just let me do whatever I wanted. I never got into trouble, never hurt myself, everyone was letting me have peace and I gave everyone the same treatment.
Tried changing the way I was but the more I did it, the more I realised I don't want to. Understanding me is hard, if not imposible cause somewhere between all of my anxiety, corny jokes and condescending personality, there lies a human being, waiting for someone to understand me, even if I don't sometimes.
Being a male makes things easier, to us most things are straigt forward, even more complex ones, that at least is a relief. Even in spite of that I manage to put myself in hard situations, complicating things just for the challenge and I have done that for so long that I can't stop even if I want or need to.
I always managed to overthink anything from a to z and I couldn't make myself stop. From sending what I thought to be a stupid text, to the meaning of life, the existence of god and the means by which we were created, I had sleepless nights just talking to myself, the more complex the question the more time I spent developing my own answers. Now imagine having an existential crisys at the age of 12 and then a "mid-life" crisys at 18, it's only now that I'm starting to relise why I'm so depressed.
Back up a few months, starting from December 2016, the begining of it all. Yet another dull, same old boring monday of school, but something went 180 degrees in the opposite direction on that day. Began feeling light headed each morning, the feeling went away after a few hours, but it kept being there, no matter what I did. I began feeling anxious and with those feeling not going away I started to panic in my councious and subconcious, but I trusted myself and manage to hold on until the Christmas semester break.
New year, new me, right? I couldn't agree more sadly. This year, 2017, will either go down in my book as either the best or worst year of my life. Some people start the year on either the right or the wrong foot, me, I faceplanted. Fever of almost 40 degrees, dying was starting to be and alright option, but after being forced to stay in bed for a week by my own body, I managed to recover just in time for the begining of the semester. Fortunately, it was delayed for a couple more weeks due to extreme weather, but when I went back to school everything went south, that was the moment I had my first real panic attack.
Palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, vomit on his sweater already, Eminem in case you don't know why that sounds familiar. That sums up what I felt that day, just that light headness, my feet and fingertips going numb, nausea, high pulse, tensed muscles and trouble breathing, and just like that my life went from 100 to 0 in a fraction of a second. Question is why did I saw it coming at least a month before and never seeked help?