By you I mean you, Reality. Outside world. Life, People, Places.

When I say I am not present is because I am in another reality, in another time and logic. When I feel like it and people worries about me and I say what I feel people use to think I have low self esteem. It is more than that. I didn’t think bad things about myself until one day I started. Started being mean with me, just in episodes. Other times I didn’t mind. As I was growing up I became obsessed with the idea of myself, I hated it. This idea was forming but inside and on the base was it: my disconnection with you. That’s why for me it is so difficult to tell you my feelings. My communication problems made me grab a notebook one day, I started writing, trying to find a way to explain myself, a way out.

Sometimes I do not live. I am there but I am not living. I am not in the same room as you, I won’t remember situations, maybe if you ask me later what was I doing before I won’t know what to say. I don’t remember faces many times. When someone explains things about their childhood I try to find inside me this part of my life and I can’t find many memories. I did not live it. I did live some days. But it is not continuous.

I wonder what’s wrong with me, I wonder if it is me that was born like it or if something happened on my way. I wish I could be normal like other people I see that are normal. I wish I could be present all the time.

Many years have passed since I started writing and I have learned many things. I can express myself better. I learned what makes me feel the uncomfort that makes me want to hide and be alone. Wait did I? I recognise the feeling, I know is more likeable to happen in social meetings. But I don’t know what is it exactly. It is a work in progress.

Good night, there is another day that I survived, tomorrow I will continue fighting.


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