I wanted to peel the skin off of my body.
That’s something you can’t tell anyone, you know? You can’t say stuff like that- people take you too literally. Which is fine I guess.
But that’s how I felt. I was so uncomfortable. So, so uncomfortable. And the only way my brain could think to describe the feeling was that I wanted to peel my skin off.
It was like the strings that attach my heart to things were like rubber bands- stretching, but not quite able to reach the people around me. Stretching, straining, until they flung back and snapped against my skin. Like wandering tentacles, they reached out in vain but only felt empty air. And when they snapped back, they brought the emptiness with them. The emptiness coated my skin and leaked slowly into my veins, infecting my bloodstream and making my nerves tender. So uncomfortable. And I wanted to peel my skin off.
It’s annoying to me- the fact that I could feel that way after interacting with people. For a brief moment feeling a relief from the loneliness, only to miss someone even as they turned to walk away.
What do you do with a feeling like that? Really. I’m at a loss here. I’m not sure how to react to that. So I pushed it down. Tried to ignore it. But my skin was crawling and I wanted to peel it off.
Isn’t that the weirdest thing? To be that uncomfortable? To feel that unsettled?
I don’t know though. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I don’t let people love me. Maybe the emptiness wouldn’t be there if I didn’t let it be there.
Vulnerability has never been a strong suit though. I don’t know how to ask for help. To ask for nearness. I mean, that’s why I have a blog no one reads, isn’t it?