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NORMALITY 1
Normality
I am Shayne Gomez. I am going to be introducing myself right now. Just to let you know, it’s going to be lengthy, because I have two versions of myself.
First of all, the Shayne everyone sees, or should I say, the Shayne I let everyone see. I am 5 foot 6”, my face structure is simply...plain. Let’s stop there for my physical appearance. I have been told innumerably that I’m very funny, I’m always smiling, laughing or talking about something, basically(to sum it all up) I’m hardly ever alone.
On the other hand, there’s the real me. Most times, when I’m with my friends I go quiet. I don’t know....I just space out. I find myself dreading the next time I’ll be alone...alone with my thoughts. I’m scared of being alone for several reasons. I’m scared of what I can do to myself. I’m scared of what I’ll think of. That’s why I’m always with people. I find myself alone with my thoughts at night, it drives me crazy. I find myself alone when every other person is busy. I’ll walk around looking for someone to stay with. I eventually find but when we run out of things to do they leave, how can I tell them that each time they leave I bleed, how can I? So I just look at them with pleading eyes but no one understands. I get ready for the worst, alone.
When I’m alone, my thoughts scream so loudly in my head that I feel like cutting it off, so I harm myself. I pick on my nails, I cut them with anything I find making sure to cut my skin along with it and I sit there watching myself bleed. I don’t know why, but it helps me. It helps reduce the voices in my head. It’s like I need the pain to feel sane.
I don’t know what’s going on so I can’t explain to anyone. That’s why I just go about smiling, laughing and talking even when all I feel like doing is not existing. I can’t say I have not thought of death, you know, so that I won’t feel all this, so I won’t hear the silly voices in my head telling me I’m not enough, telling me I can’t do things, asking me why I can’t be like her. I think about dying every single time I’m alone but I don’t want to kill myself, I just wish I’d sleep and not wake up, that would be so peaceful.
They are some days the voices escape and I have to be alone so no one else can hear them. I’m moving, I’m walking but I think I’m dead...until someone comes to me asking me if I’m okay and I’m like “oh bad news I’m still living”.
I have been told that God helps people like me, so most times I’m alone I just pray to God. I think I would feel better if He actually spoke to me too. I find myself crying my eyes out most times and I’m like “why the fuck am I crying right now”.
I mean I didn’t ask to be born so why can’t I live and be happy, why can’t I smile one day while I’m with people and I know I’m smiling because I want to , that I’m smiling because I’m genuinely happy and not because I’m trying to avoid questions I know I won’t have proper answers to. I just want to feel normal while I’m alone, I don’t want to be scared of my thoughts anymore.
I am also classified as a mean girl. I’m mean to people because I hate them....no, I hate the fact that they get to be happy and I don’t, so I do what I can to steal that smile from them. I do what I can to steal that happiness from them. God created us In His image, right? So why the fuck do they get to be happy and I don’t? That’s the question that keeps ringing in my head most times, I just want to be happy.
How does it feel to be normal? If everyone is unique it means we all act and reason in different ways so is there anything as actually being normal? This was the question that always came to my head whenever I was sad and I was trying to cheer myself up, which was a very rare occasion
The voices in my head grew louder, this time it wasn’t criticizing only me but everyone around me. It made me suspicious of every body’s action. I read meaning into the smallest gestures. I became bitter, I couldn’t even laugh and smile as usual. Everyone and everything became a threat to me, I spent my nights crying and my days sulking, I didn’t like the new me but I didn’t like the old me either.
I’m running mad, the voices keep telling me how ugly I am whenever I look in the mirror, it tells me to keep quiet when I want to speak, it tells me I’m fat, it tells me to starve myself, it tells me I’m not enough. I can’t take it anymore. I harm myself. I pick on my nails, I cut my flesh along with it. I sit there watching my fingers and toes bleed, instead of feeling relieved as usual, I don’t. I can’t feel the pain anymore so I start crying because I can still feel the emotional pain, I look around for anything to inflict physical pain on my body. I picked up a pen and stabbed my thigh, my brain told me to scream but I don’t feel like screaming because I can’t feel it. I close my eyes and I see the pen in my flesh, I cry even more, not because of the pen but because the voices assure me that I can’t get rid of them. They tell me that I am stuck with them.
I cried for days, weeks and maybe months. I can’t feel physically pain and I need to feel physical pain to feel sane. One day, the voices got so loud that I started running, I ran to my room, my eyes scanned everywhere for something to cause pain so the voices would be quiet. I found a scissors on my side desk and I quickly reached for it and slit my wrist. I was bleeding but I still couldn’t feel pain. The voices were laughing, I took the scissors one more time with tears in my eyes and I stabbed my chest. I fell down with a smile on my face because I noticed the voices finally kept quiet, and I’m like “jokes on you, I got rid of you”. I couldn’t move but I liked what I was feeling, I liked the pain as long as it kept the voices down.
Lying down there in the pool of my blood I couldn’t help but smile. I was finally alone in my head. Just me. I guess this is what normal feels like.
By
💙blue💙soul💙
© All Rights Reserved
© BLUESOUL
I am Shayne Gomez. I am going to be introducing myself right now. Just to let you know, it’s going to be lengthy, because I have two versions of myself.
First of all, the Shayne everyone sees, or should I say, the Shayne I let everyone see. I am 5 foot 6”, my face structure is simply...plain. Let’s stop there for my physical appearance. I have been told innumerably that I’m very funny, I’m always smiling, laughing or talking about something, basically(to sum it all up) I’m hardly ever alone.
On the other hand, there’s the real me. Most times, when I’m with my friends I go quiet. I don’t know....I just space out. I find myself dreading the next time I’ll be alone...alone with my thoughts. I’m scared of being alone for several reasons. I’m scared of what I can do to myself. I’m scared of what I’ll think of. That’s why I’m always with people. I find myself alone with my thoughts at night, it drives me crazy. I find myself alone when every other person is busy. I’ll walk around looking for someone to stay with. I eventually find but when we run out of things to do they leave, how can I tell them that each time they leave I bleed, how can I? So I just look at them with pleading eyes but no one understands. I get ready for the worst, alone.
When I’m alone, my thoughts scream so loudly in my head that I feel like cutting it off, so I harm myself. I pick on my nails, I cut them with anything I find making sure to cut my skin along with it and I sit there watching myself bleed. I don’t know why, but it helps me. It helps reduce the voices in my head. It’s like I need the pain to feel sane.
I don’t know what’s going on so I can’t explain to anyone. That’s why I just go about smiling, laughing and talking even when all I feel like doing is not existing. I can’t say I have not thought of death, you know, so that I won’t feel all this, so I won’t hear the silly voices in my head telling me I’m not enough, telling me I can’t do things, asking me why I can’t be like her. I think about dying every single time I’m alone but I don’t want to kill myself, I just wish I’d sleep and not wake up, that would be so peaceful.
They are some days the voices escape and I have to be alone so no one else can hear them. I’m moving, I’m walking but I think I’m dead...until someone comes to me asking me if I’m okay and I’m like “oh bad news I’m still living”.
I have been told that God helps people like me, so most times I’m alone I just pray to God. I think I would feel better if He actually spoke to me too. I find myself crying my eyes out most times and I’m like “why the fuck am I crying right now”.
I mean I didn’t ask to be born so why can’t I live and be happy, why can’t I smile one day while I’m with people and I know I’m smiling because I want to , that I’m smiling because I’m genuinely happy and not because I’m trying to avoid questions I know I won’t have proper answers to. I just want to feel normal while I’m alone, I don’t want to be scared of my thoughts anymore.
I am also classified as a mean girl. I’m mean to people because I hate them....no, I hate the fact that they get to be happy and I don’t, so I do what I can to steal that smile from them. I do what I can to steal that happiness from them. God created us In His image, right? So why the fuck do they get to be happy and I don’t? That’s the question that keeps ringing in my head most times, I just want to be happy.
How does it feel to be normal? If everyone is unique it means we all act and reason in different ways so is there anything as actually being normal? This was the question that always came to my head whenever I was sad and I was trying to cheer myself up, which was a very rare occasion
The voices in my head grew louder, this time it wasn’t criticizing only me but everyone around me. It made me suspicious of every body’s action. I read meaning into the smallest gestures. I became bitter, I couldn’t even laugh and smile as usual. Everyone and everything became a threat to me, I spent my nights crying and my days sulking, I didn’t like the new me but I didn’t like the old me either.
I’m running mad, the voices keep telling me how ugly I am whenever I look in the mirror, it tells me to keep quiet when I want to speak, it tells me I’m fat, it tells me to starve myself, it tells me I’m not enough. I can’t take it anymore. I harm myself. I pick on my nails, I cut my flesh along with it. I sit there watching my fingers and toes bleed, instead of feeling relieved as usual, I don’t. I can’t feel the pain anymore so I start crying because I can still feel the emotional pain, I look around for anything to inflict physical pain on my body. I picked up a pen and stabbed my thigh, my brain told me to scream but I don’t feel like screaming because I can’t feel it. I close my eyes and I see the pen in my flesh, I cry even more, not because of the pen but because the voices assure me that I can’t get rid of them. They tell me that I am stuck with them.
I cried for days, weeks and maybe months. I can’t feel physically pain and I need to feel physical pain to feel sane. One day, the voices got so loud that I started running, I ran to my room, my eyes scanned everywhere for something to cause pain so the voices would be quiet. I found a scissors on my side desk and I quickly reached for it and slit my wrist. I was bleeding but I still couldn’t feel pain. The voices were laughing, I took the scissors one more time with tears in my eyes and I stabbed my chest. I fell down with a smile on my face because I noticed the voices finally kept quiet, and I’m like “jokes on you, I got rid of you”. I couldn’t move but I liked what I was feeling, I liked the pain as long as it kept the voices down.
Lying down there in the pool of my blood I couldn’t help but smile. I was finally alone in my head. Just me. I guess this is what normal feels like.
By
💙blue💙soul💙
© All Rights Reserved
© BLUESOUL
