Suicide Notes to Myself: And I Wish That Was Okay

Dear Reagan,

You don’t quite know how to describe dissociating. It’s like hearing one song after another on the radio and then not remembering a song was playing but knowing it did. It is experiencing things and knowing you did but not remembering any of the actions or interactions. There is no way you could possibly describe the way you feel when dissociating, no matter how much you try. People usually say it’s an out of body experience, and to you it is, but it also isn’t. You don’t feel like you are out of your body, you just feel like you aren’t really there, like you don’t exist.

It’s weird when you realize you’re having one too. It’s unsettling and uncomfortable. The world seems out of focus. You can’t maintain your attention and you almost feel paranoid. It’s like someone changing the movie to the point where the trailer isn’t even accurate. Everything about that movie changes and you’re unsure of what it is anymore. It’s tiring when it happens and you don’t know how not to dissociate. There’s nothing specific that triggers it so what the hell?

One thing that might be worse than the feeling of dissociating is the feeling of absolutely nothing. You can feel the headache of dissociating when it comes, but you can’t tell when nothing hits you until it does. And you feel nothing so often that it’s become a legitimate feeling. It’s like you lose the eagerness of reading your favorite book, being unhappy when your absolute favorite song is on, or not being able to focus when your favorite movie is on.

Nothing is lying awake at 12:39am wondering why everyone hates you even though no one has said anything to you. Nothing is staring at the wall or the ceiling or the window. It’s focusing on anything blank so your mind can wander. It’s like your body shuts off and you can’t do anything about it.