The day after I had the panic attack, I went to the poetry slam. I only went for a little bit, because Julia had a raid to do on World of Warcraft. My primary motivation of going was to write something; I can’t seem to write anything when I don’t feel away from everything. That’s another reason why I choose to not go to Stardust often. Since everyone knows who I am, my words will not come to me.

My hammering heart hoped she’d be there; but, at the same time, my mind shivered at the thought of being around someone so beautiful. She has done so much to help the community; I feel insignificant or that I’d get in her way of doing good for the world. I truly admire her. Though, I had a crush on her before finding out who she was in the world, her actions imprinted her into my heart. Her organization promotes the community and local businesses.

While I’m sure this is just another excuse to tell myself I’m good enough for no one, it also makes me ponder whether or not I can do anything for the world. Words have become my being, but actions can mean much more. Questions fill my head with whether I’m actually going to make a difference for anyone. I strive to tell people they’re not the only ones who feel this pain, but what if it’s just me that does? My heart longs for love, and my soul longs to be free; what if I’m fighting the wrong battle?

Freedom in today’s world, to me, consists of being a gear in a machine; I despise this machine. Yet, what if my mind tells me it’s wrong just to keep me from living? I’m so afraid of everything. My body and mind fight each other constantly; chaos fills my blood. And, yet, I found someone that seems to balance it out. My last crush only solidified the fact that I’m a stranger to social norms. This one barely knows I exist; she hasn’t yet shunned me.

And, I know, I should talk to her. I don’t need advice; we all have plenty of that. When you’ve never done anything correctly, should you continue to break everything you set out to accomplish? I need help. I can’t be alone much longer, or I’m afraid of what I’ll do to myself. It’s hard enough to convince myself that getting up and trying is worth it, anymore.

The mask I molded over my face is breaking; I consider this a new growth. I’ve always hidden myself from all except those most close to me. I’m not sure whether I’m changing or the shell I put myself in. Either way, the little light left is fading. My soul aches; somehow, through all of the fortune bestowed upon me, it believes I have been neglected my whole life.

And, the days peel away like sunburned skin.