Criteria 7: Chronic feelings of emptiness or boredom.
Hollow. That’s often how I feel. Or don’t feel as the case may be. Like there’s a void where my internal receptors should be. There’s always a sense of seperateness, being removed from the crowd with only a hollow center to fall in on. I can never quite cross that emotional bridge that binds people together, I’m left to drift along the same river but never quite reach the shore.
Bored. I don’t know what it’s like to be bored. I hate to be bored and thus, never am. I plan and plan and plan ahead so that I always have something to do in case there is even 5 minutes where I’ll have to be left alone with my own thoughts. If you were to turn out my shoulder bag you would find, multiple books, my journal, multiple sketchpads, art/drawing supplies and my Netbook in case I manage to be somewhere with free WiFi.
When I was in school this was easy. I chose the hardest courses, would create elaborate study schedules and obsess over getting perfect grades. The more effort I put into my schoolwork, the less effort I had to put into my real issues. After I moved to New York I discovered the whirlwind that would become my social life. For months and months ahead of time I would have almost every day, every weekend scheduled away to see people, attend events, not leaving even an hour when I wasn’t off getting ready to run to the next thing. For nearly two and a half years I lived like this. Eventually the pressure and exhaustion caught up with me though and I turned inward once again.
Without something to occupy me I’m left only to think. My brain never shuts off, never slows down. My thoughts race. Being left alone with my own thoughts is dangerous. In the space of free time my thoughts can wander and roam. Often not to happy productive places. Feeling hollow it’s hard to hold onto the thought that there is anything good in me, when I feel there is nothing in me. What can there be to look forward to with nothing good inside? My thoughts are often ruminating and destructive, taking me down paths that will never actually be, except in my own mind. In this journey deep where those harmful thoughts dwell I have the power to destroy myself. I’m more a danger to myself than anyone else in this world could be. It’s no wonder I spend every spare moment trying to fill unused time with things that will allow me to escape the trappings of my own mind.
Maybe if I can make everyone see all the Stuff I do, I have, on the outside, they won’t notice how empty I am on the inside.