All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.
I struggle around most people, not knowing where to look or what to say. Where do I put my hands? What am I supposed to do when my body twitches as if burned by flame under the pressure of their gaze? My mind screams, "Get out of there!" I am overwhelmed with anxiety and it feels that the walls of the room are closing in upon me. I do not have the strength to bear up under these feelings of anxiety and pressure to do what I am not equipped to do.
My issues are made all the more constricting and cloying when conflict is present. It often feels that my best recourse is to run and hide, escape down that rabbit hole. Run to my own world where I feel safe and can breathe. Only there does my heart slow down and find its quiet pace. Only there does my mind begin to sensibly process information. Of course, running and hiding whenever things get tough or uncomfortable, is not necessarily a healthy way to live. You cannot be part of the big wide world when you are locked away in your own fantasy land, where reality is technicolor. Everything warped and stretched, bottled and baked.
Curiouser and curiouser.