Finding Comfort in Fiction and Escaping Reality

i don't even know if it goes into this category but yeah.

I've been wondering why I like being on my phone so much. On the net. On the Internet. The sadder I am, the more time I seem to want to spend on it. 

Then I wondered why I like sleeping so much. Dreaming. Wanting to go back to sleep even if I'd just woken up from a nightmare.

 "Not being alive. Not being real."

"I want to forget. I want to not be alive right now."

"For five more minutes. Just let me have this."

"Just let me be this. It's comfort."

I don't like looking at my screen for too long. Maybe it's personal preference but I can't go more than 3 hours a day. I remember when I was in a really bad mental state, I'd spend 12 hours a day MINIMUM on my phone.

I'd go back to sleep, over and over, my 8 hours of sleep stretching to 10 to 14. Waking up blurry eyed, a terrible headache, but at the same time wanting to try to force myself to pass out again and let the hours pass without my presence.

 Without your existence. To be nothing.

It's not looking at a screen that comforts me. It's not sleeping that comforts me. I could do without those. I just wanted to not be there. To not be "in" the moment. To not experience life. To waste my hours away, forgetting I exist.

Of course, that's a terrible thing to wish for. But it's something that happens when you have no where else to turn to, no one else to talk to.  

When you're in your room, hadn't showered in weeks, hair greasy, eyes tired, probably sitting in your own piss, dirty clothes in piles on the floor, shirt stained with vomit from not eating yet not bothering to eat, not bothering to even put in effort to breathe. When your existence is terrifying. When it's unsavoury, unpleasant. When you look at yourself in the mirror and can only think of things adjacent to the words "ugly" and "worthless."

it's only natural to gravitate towards not wanting to be like that, and for some people, that means not wanting to be at all.

So, to anyone out there who might be feeling this way:

Breathe. Breathe, think, close and open your eyes once or twice. You're real. A person. If you look or feel at somewhere else outside this screen, you're probably a human living in the real world. You're you. You might not want to be, but you are. You exist. It's tough, existing. 

What we do in these hard times, is pick ourselves up and do whatever we can do to help. 

We push through, we do it anyway.

I mean, yeah, it's difficult getting up and showering, but for now, just getting up at all is fine. 

We all go at different paces. That's okay. It's okay to be slow, slower than a snail, even, as long as you're walking.

Human experience isn't meant to be beautiful. Sometimes it's ugly. Sometimes, being alive, living, is gross and ugly.

We do it anyway. Because even if it's ugly, it can also be beautiful. It can be wonderful. It's nice, even in the smallest things, being alive is nice. 

I just hope that life will meet you in the happiest ways, even if not the prettiest.

I've been there, sometimes still feel as if I'm there. Feeling like you'd rather just not exist for a small moment. Feeling like the world would be better off without you.

It wouldn't. If you didn't exist, the world would simply be too sad, so someone would have had to make you. 

It's nice being alive, even if you can't see it quite yet. 

I hope you can.

(also it is currently around midnight i shall pass out to honk shoo mimimi goodbye :)