I’m here. I exist. There’s nothing to resist. I’m not happy, not sad. I don’t remember how it feels to be mad. I’m not melancholy. Not depressed. Not thinking about what comes next. Just here. Just existing. So please stop insisting I’m upset or unstable. Im just sitting at an internal table. Watching life happen with an unattached view. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It passes with time. No, it wasn’t you. I promise, I’ll be okay. I just can’t feel today. But... it’s better this way. It’s just my mental defense. No I’m not tense. I’m indifferent to everything. Yes, everything. I’ll be fine tomorrow. I promise it’s not sorrow. Just let me be today, and tomorrow you’ll see I really am okay.
I wrote this while having an episode of derealization. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically when you detach from reality (although much more scientific than that). This is more than just “zoning out.” Its almost like a dream. It’s having the inability to feel absolutely anything. Often times my senses feel muffled. Everything just seems fuzzy, distant, and unreal. Indifferent is the only word I’ve found to describe how I feel in the moment accurately, because every other word I’ve tried implies emotion, and there is none during a derealization episode. Sometimes when this happens I don’t recognize my own body as me. It seems like I’m trapped inside a foreign body just watching life happen. My body goes into auto pilot and acts normal, so usually no one even notices. However, sometimes if it’s a really strong derealization episode, even my body doesn’t function properly and I seem withdrawn and depressed. This poem is supposed to be me reassuring someone who sees me in that extreme state that I will be okay. That I’m not depressed, not mad, not sad, etc. But that I just need time for this feeling (or more like lack there of) to wear off. I wanted to write it with an air of patience, due to my inability to be annoyed by people’s questions while I’m experiencing it.