I am not real sure where I am right now. Am I sitting in this chair, moving my fingers along the keyboard, and listening the words of those around me. Or am I far away, where no one can see me, floating calmly through this world but never actually touching it. Or am I real, but still not seen. Where am I? And why can’t I feel myself.
It isn’t very often that I go through life floating. It isn’t very often that I can sit in place and not feel real. In one way, I am almost lucky to have a disease that doesn’t allow for me to ever be alone. In some ways the torture of a mind that does not sit still and constantly drives me to madness, allows for me to never sit and contemplate the reality of my own being. If some voice is speaking to me, doesn’t that mean I am real.
I am in pain. Pain has an amazing way of making me non bi-polar. Almost as if the physical pain, when great enough, simply can’t be ignored through the emotional pain. I rarely if ever actually feel physical pain.
So today I sit in this bright room, looking around and not really seeing, not really hearing the dull words, not really paying attention to the air moving or the wind blowing. I sit here lost in the honest pain that takes my will, my nerve, and all of my concentration to hide. It takes all of my strength to hide the pain. Even the silence when I stop typing for a moment, wondering what my next thought is going to be, is somehow unreal.
I worry when I am in this state, because there is still stuff I need to do. There is still that 1st grade project that must be turned in tomorrow. There is still words for a 1st grader to memorize. There is still… But where is the connection I need in order to be what I have to be? Where is the physical string that connects me with this world; this spinning world that scientifically holds me bound? Where is the literal hold that makes it possible for me to be?
I explore the metaphysical as much as I explore any topic. I look at it, study it, make up logical arguments for why I can believe in it. Someone once described me as the type of person who believes in the possibility of everything. And that is true. I can believe in fairies because I haven’t seen evidence to the contrary. I can believe in a growing universe, because I haven’t understood enough to see the evidence to the contrary. This world has its black and white, but it also has its million shades of grey. And I believe in the possibility of it all.
So what does it tell me that I don’t feel connected, that I don’t feel real? What does it mean that there isn’t a piece of string that I can tug to make me feel a part of the same world my child will run through tonight? What does it mean that my brain can type these words, but it can’t physically feel. What does it mean that I am sober, yet I feel as if I am high?
I am not sure where I am today. I am not sure that I honestly need to know where I am today. I think ultimately today shall be a day to write off. I will get nothing real done, I will not contribute to my society, and I won’t fall down in love. I will simply continue to sit, continue to be lost, and wonder if tomorrow my body will float back into itself.