Lost in Dreams

I’m writing this down because I can’t seem to express myself properly in words. There’s something about saying it out loud that feels… wrong. So here it is: “It’s your fault if you burden someone—with your thoughts, your worries. Always remember that.” I keep reminding myself of this. Just because I’m going through something doesn’t mean someone else should be dragged into it. People are different. They have their own lives, their own struggles. My spiraling happiness doesn’t give me the right to pull someone else down with it. “It’s all in your head,” I tell myself. Grow up. Face it. My inability to understand my own emotions doesn’t excuse me from inflicting them on someone else. It’s my fault. My fault that I hear something at night that keeps me awake. My fault that I can’t muster the strength to get out of bed in the morning. My fault that I can’t tolerate anyone—and at the same time, can’t bear to be alone. I am my own happiness. My own sadness. My own fears. My own salvation. No one’s coming to save me. Because why would they? I’m not special. I don’t deserve to matter—not even to myself. Why should anyone else care? My hands shake as I write this. I know I’m dragging these words out from a dark corner of my mind, a place that whispers I’ll never amount to anything. Not to people. Not to life. Not even to myself. Maybe I never belonged. Maybe the life I thought was mine was someone else’s all along. Maybe I was just a shadow, a ghost hovering nearby. And yet, sometimes—just sometimes—it feels like it was within reach. Like it was real. But it slips away. It always does. And when those fleeting glimpses come, I fail to hold onto them. They vanish as quickly as they arrive. Still, I find some comfort in knowing this state won’t last forever. It has a name, and names can be shed. This will pass. I’ll still be here. Somehow.