#over-analytical

and he said, “short hair, glasses...very funny...not like the other girls.”

Afterwards the mutual friend was laughing with me and she told me what he said and I just

“I often wondered how other kids could just go about their lives, talking and laughing and being so calm and happy, like nothing was wrong. I don’t know what I really expected of them – I didn’t have the vaguest idea of what was “wrong”, either. I didn’t know why I felt so anxious all the time, I just did. I had no idea why the rest of the world didn’t feel the same way, and I wanted to know what that was like.

It felt like my mind was constantly talking to itself without any interruption, and it was overanalyzing everything around me. Some second, parallel existence seemed to be running alongside my direct experience of consciousness: an inner monologue of sorts, but a very toxic one. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything – it was as though this loud voice in my head kept me from simply existing in the moment.

There was no way to shut off that voice and just be, like everyone else. I wanted those two sides to line up and merge so I could feel natural and at ease too. But it wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard I tried. There always seemed to be some invisible skin separating me from the rest of reality – I could move around in the real world, interact with it, but never actually touch it or feel it.”

Nothing ever seems complete in my life.  The majority of things I start never come to an end.  I can never obtain complete things from others or myself.  So both internally and externally I'm incomplete.  I'm somewhat of an egomaniac as every sentence in this post might end up being about me, I combat that by being a giver.  I give away all the best parts of me to people, even though a dark corner in my mind really just wants something in return. 

I'm definitely a victim of myself.  Analyzing things to death yet always missing something.