I feel like I have nothing to say or share lately. It is like everything around me is pulling me in all different directions and I’m standing at a crossroads doing nothing.
Since last summer, I’ve felt broken. Completely ripped in half, pieces shattered and nothing left to clean up kinda broken. I can honestly say it’s because they killed Lexa from The 100. Since then, I mainly read fanfiction about said character and recently I’ve started writing my own. I am scared to watch the new season of this series that I used to love. Completely afraid like a child is of the dark or that monsters are beneath the bed. I have been told that this fear is irrational, fictional and overall stupid: I keep my responses to myself.
Growing up I loved syfy series and otherworldly shows. Yes I am still waiting on my HOGWARTS letter, yes I believe I could be a CHARMED ONE, yes I am the GREEN Power Ranger, and yes I would survive a ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE. These shows and books and other realities have always soothed me endlessly. Growing up as a handicap according to society really did a number on me. Truth be told, every day I fight the stares of society and the issues people have with me. Every day I struggle to remember my own words, and yes, I believe them, but when negativity rears its ugly head and the solace you seek after is crushed in some trope, it cracks you just a little.
No, I am not a mopey millennial seeking attention or pity. I just crave a day without mockery. I know that we ought to look up and rise above and be strong, but nobody ever tells you how hard that is. I got a semi-colon symbol affixed to my person a few months back and it literally keeps me grounded most times. I look at it and it reminds me that hey, life goes on and my story isn’t over and I have so much more to say! Sometimes the words fail me though and at other times, I am too afraid to speak them.
I am afraid of living at times. Deathly scared of reality. Ensnared by fiction and let down by it all the time, for the pages end and the credits have to roll and I am then thrown back into a world that is not like me and I’m standing and staring at the crossroads— doing nothing.
I try to remember my words every day, and I fear that I may be lying to myself.