white trash bag

like it whispers in your ear and covers your eyes and strokes your face while it pulls your hair. maladaptive daydreaming holds you by the throat and tells you to think of it as a hug.

you can’t feel time slip away, minutes and hours adding up to years. you can’t see how your own eyes glass over. it makes you a ghost of a person, a hollow shell and the thing that’s supposed to be inside is literally worlds away, but all you feel is the rush. it wrecks you from the inside out but even as it hurts you, it tells you “i’m the only one who understands, stay with me, be mine, you’re mine.”

it’s a disorder that completely enslaves you and that. is. so. scary.

and the second scariest thing? how it disguises itself. “shh. it’s okay. it’s not a big deal. everyone daydreams.” or, “you have a vivid imagination. you’re lucky. you’re special. be glad.”

I think the thing that bother me the most about Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder is just how ridiculously embarrassing it is. Instead of having real friends I make up fictional characters that I imagine while I pace back and forth in my bedroom for an hour or more every night. Instead of having a real life I imagine what it would be like if I had a life. It feels pathetic but it’s very real, and I can’t imagine what things would be like without it.