The Box — Mental Health Post #19

Most of the time, it doesn’t matter whether I’m with ten people or a hundred, I still feel disconnected somehow, as if there’s a thick glass box between us.
It takes time for their messages to reach me and by then they’ve moved on, and my words bubble into the empty space around me.
I slouch against the hard wall of my box and wait for the event to be over, frustrated with my inability to change the fact that everything is happening without me, but the truth is, people are exhausting and I’m too tired to care. Even if I could get out, I’m not sure that I would.
Despite the fact that I curse the glass for making me miss out on things that seem to make others so happy, I’m grateful for its presence, too, because in exchange for my isolation it offers protection. Inside its walls, I cannot make a fool of myself, and I don’t have to worry about getting hurt.
Occasionally a passerby will tap on my glass and try to break through to me, but I wave and smile, pretend I’m fine so they walk by to meet someone who is actually here.

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One thought on “The Box — Mental Health Post #19

  1. When I was in my teens, I would often experience the feeling of looking out at the world through a bubble. The bubble appeared often regardless of time or place or what was going on around me. It was like a distancing from the actual world, almost as if it didn’t exist. At those times, I would go internal and and think about the bubble and what it meant. I could still react to what was happening around me, but it didn’t seem as important as what was happening inside.

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