I came to my home office to try and “do something productive,” which apparently is code for sitting here staring at a blinking cursor.

I am barely clinging to reason right now. I feel like snapping but whether it’s anger or depression or anxiety, who knows? I hate feeling this way. Will I ever feel normal? Like, ever, at any point in my life? Because this shit is exhausting. It is exhausting to spend all day, every day, fighting with my own brain. At this point I have lost the will to try to figure out why it’s like this. It could quite literally be anything. There could be one cause or there could be an un-harmonic convergence of many causes. How the hell am I ever supposed to sort through all the possibilities to find an answer?

Everything seems bleak right now and I don’t know what to do. I’m tired of causing people trouble and making them aware of my internal drama. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with; they don’t need me adding my issues.

I’m just tired. I don’t know how else to put it. Tired and hopeless and powerless.

The one thing that’s been keeping me distracted and entertained for all of 2020 so far is nothing but an illusion. I shouldn’t be hanging my emotional well-being on something that has absolutely no real-life relation or application to me. There is no healthy reason why I should be attached to people I don’t know, who don’t know me, and who would be unable to care less even if they were aware of my existence. It’s strange and more than a little pathetic.

I’m tired of being weird and awkward and struggling to do the most basic “adulting.” I’m tired of things making sense in my head but then being misunderstood or misconstrued or just plain missed by normal people. I’m essentially a child in an adult’s body with adult responsibilities that are apparently too much for me to handle.

I don’t even feel sorry for myself at this point. I’m just discouraged.

The adults in my family have all been decently long-lived. If I follow the pattern then that means I have multiple decades left ahead of me. Will I struggle like this through every. single. one? Because if I’m exhausted now, I can’t imagine another ten or twenty years of this. I don’t think I can do it.

This isn’t me saying my life sucks. Externally, there are lots of people who have it lots worse. I get that. This is me saying my brain sucks. It’s out to get me. The organ that runs my entire body and is the reason I exist is constantly fighting against me. It makes everything ten times more difficult than it needs to be. I am so tired of falling apart at the slightest provocation. If anyone thinks I make this shit up, or enjoy it, they’re sadly mistaken. It is exhausting and demoralizing and I just want to be normal.

(Save me the platitudes about how “normal is boring.” Come watch me have an utterly lunatic emotional breakdown because of something like running out of cat food, and then tell me how much better off I am not being normal.)

There’s just over a month until my psychological testing begins, to try and determine if there is an atypical neurological condition that makes me this way.

If they decide, no, my brain is wired correctly and all of this is just some personality defect, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Hitting “publish” now. Maybe in a few days I’ll feel better enough that I’m embarrassed I wrote this and will be back to delete it.