Despite all the ways in which I am different from the majority of my peers (yes, I am unique,just like everyoneelse) I am also incredibly normal, in that I suffer from a near constant sense of anxiety, usually sprouting from stress related to school, existential crises, social activity or moral dilemma.
I find myself to have a tolerable level of anxiety, but sometimes, I spiral down from reasonably neurotic to completely and utterly and unstably deranged. These fits of uncertainty and depression usually last 1-2 weeks, ending when I one morning magically wake up feeling like I a capable adult person again.
It starts small. I become preoccupied with minor details; the wash of my jeans, how bright my desk light is, my bellybutton. My mind seems to revolve around these tiny details of my life until the higher functioning part of my brain seems to short circuit and I am left distracted.
This leads to frustration at my lack of focus and resulting decrease in productivity. I become irritable, wrought with self-loathing over the fact that all the things I need to be doing aren't being done. I react over-emotionally to things that really don't require great levels of emotion.
While walking to class: Why the hell is the sun out?! This is fucking Oregon in the fucking fall, there should not be sun here!
While eating some food: WHY IS THIS ONLY LUKEWARM????
Alone in my room: Why doesn't anyone like me? Oh, God.
While talking with classmates: Stop looking at my eyebrows. You're judging me, aren't you? STOP JUDGING MY UNIBROW!
While doing homework: You know what math professor? The Quadratic formula is for snobby douches who think they're better than the rest of us. You're teaching us it, do you think you're better than us? You do, don't you? Die in a fire.
My out of control emotions make me feel self-conscious and so to comfort myself I shun responsibility and instead do something that I'm “good” at, such as knitting a hat, or crafting a paper mache katana. I become so immersed in my project that I being to want to to be the absolute best thing I have ever made ever, thus causing me undue disappointment when it turns out that my hat or paper-starch weapon is not actually at all worth mention. In fact, my project is likely the worse thing I have ever made. I start to hate myself for even trying to cheer myself up.
Trying to learn from my failure at house crafts, I simply give up.
I lie in my bed, reading a book, refusing to acknowledge my huge list of mounting responsibilities.
Unfortunately this leads me to subconsciously angst about all the things that I need to be doing that I am very pointedly not doing, usually manifesting as an upsetting dream. Usually a variation of the typical spider infested room/zombie apocalypse/complete abandonment by my friends/stuck in high school situation.
Emotionally scarred from the nightmare, I arise insecure and distressed, and wonder about for 2-3 days in a state of inconsolable hopelessness.
The end result of all this inner turmoil is me locking myself in a dark room, shutting out all forms of social contact, wrapped up in a blanket on a couch, watching cartoons and eating pizza rolls in my underwear.
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