but the better and better I feel, the quieter this world seems to become.
It's early in the morning. Perfectly silent with the exception of my laptop's fan whirring away. Outside it's gray, cloudly. I can't hear a single bird chirping. There's no wind blowing. Everything is still. Like I've been stuck in a single moment in time, just my laptop and I, and all of you. Frozen. Trapped.
I feel like I want to scream. Just to break the silence, to know I'm still here, still alive, still thriving. Am I thriving? No....that's a silly notion. To thrive is to be truly happy with the life you are leading. If that is the case, there are very, very few people in this world who thrive. Perhaps none at all.
This week has been wonderful, better than some, even, that I had known before I'd become threatened with this...is there even a way to describe something you still doubt to exist? Even if it is the tiniest shred of doubt?
and yet everything else seems so much more oppressive, more hostile. I feel people staring at me when I'm in public. I don't know why. I haven't crossed any such threshold that would constitute that...yet. But still. It makes my skin crawl. Like there are maggots just under what is visible, squirming and twisting and gnawing their way out of my flesh, out at into the air and leaving me...
I'm rambling again.
I can't help but feel like all of my problems stem from one thing: that in these last couple years I have found life boring. It's hard. If I'm as intelligent as everyone else believes, if I think of things that no one else bothers with and my brain is constantly whirring in no particular direction at hyperspeed, I'm constantly seeking a way to branch out, to expand my thinking until I can latch on to one thing and put it to good use. But I'm not able to get out, to be independent. It's turned me into a sort of thrill-seeker. Nothing's exciting to me anymore unless it's new, potentially dangerous and far, far away from what I'm used to in everyday life.
This is what worries me. Because the best days I can remember since I've gotten this blog--far before I'd gotten it--are the past week. When He has been following me. I've felt, not alive, not yet, but more alive than I have probably since I started high school. Only now that there is danger in my life (is it even real?) do I feel like I have a chance to make something of myself.
And yet the Lingering Fear still traipses alongside my shadow.
I'm tired still. Perhaps breakfast would do me some good. Then I can put my feelings more in order than they are now.