Emo post #4858347834573948.
Screaming on the inside. If I were alone, I could scream out loud. Vent the noise inside.
But when people are around, even though you have no energy, you must pretend. Pretend to be happy and light and normal. I’m never actually alone. Always someone around. Someone around who needs the performance.
I derive little to no satisfaction from interacting with people now. For the most part. My husband comes home from work bounding joyfully around like a golden retriever and I feel like dying. Have to perform for him too.
If I could just push everyone away, I could be sick in peace and quiet. Instead of sick and barely managing to perform for others.
Alone in a shed in the woods. Just me and a dog and a cat. Sounds like heaven. No, sounds like a place for recovery. No pressures. No performances.
The internet is literally my only space to vent. How angry I feel when my husband and his well-meaning friends intone so seriously about how the internet is an echo chamber. The internet has kept me alive when no one else has.