I’ve never posted anything on here before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right? I’m not even sure where to begin, but I feel like I need to share this with someone, and you guys seem like you might understand.
For context, I’m just living alone in my apartment, basically never really going outside. I wouldn’t say I’m a complete shut-in, but there is somehow also no use for me to leave - I don’t have any friends, my mother lives far away by now and I can do my job from home anyways. Most of my time is spent online though, just browsing, watching videos, or playing games. It’s not that I don’t like people, I just find it easier to keep to myself. And with everything that’s been going on in my life, I don’t think I’d be the best company anyway.
I don’t even know where to begin so all of this makes some sense, even though it probably doesn’t, no matter how much I try to explain it. You see, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt…weird. Not that kinda “weird” where people just end up saying “Aww, what a special kid”, no. And I needed some years on this planet earth to figure out that not everyone was feeling the way I was feeling. At least, no one around me. Everyone was happy. And so, so oblivious.
It’s hard to put in words. That constant feeling of utter dread. The constant weight on my shoulders, as if someone - or something - was trying to pull me down. Or as if the ground was having a tight grip on my ankles, trying to swallow me very very slowly. Maybe it was at the age of 5 where I first realized, that it wasn’t me who made me feel this way. It was, indeed, something.
A constant but invisible, lurking presence that gripped me tightly. It’s always so hard to breathe.
Anyways, it was around the same age where I developed a big fear of clocks. Not the ticking ones, just the digital clocks with those angry red numbers glowing at night.
The time mocked me. Especially during my nightmares.
Well, they weren’t really nightmares as per definition. Nothing terrifying happened in there. It was always just me leaving my bed while it was dark, roaming around while that intense, heavy feeling of a suffocating presence seemed even stronger than during the times where I was awake. Always feeling heavy. Always barely able to move, breathe or even say a word. I moved through the rooms as if I was looking for something, though I never knew what.
At least until my eyes fell on a digital clock that sat on a drawer in the halls. Or the digital clock in the kitchen. Or that one next to my bed.
Angry red numbers. Mocking me. Showing me a time that didn’t even exist.
33:33
I’d always wake up on an instant upon seeing the time. Though I have to say, I’m not even really sure if I was dreaming these things, or if they actually happened during the nighttime. Maybe I actually got out of bed. Maybe I actually walked aimlessly until my gaze would fall on a clock.
As you can imagine, growing up like this wasn’t easy. My mom did her best to help me, but I could tell she was worried. She took me to see therapists, doctors, anyone who might be able to explain what was going on with me. But every time, it was the same thing. They’d say I was depressed, or that I had anxiety, or some other mental health issue. But I knew that wasn’t it. I wasn’t imagining things, and I definitely wasn’t making it up just for the fun of it.
School was a nightmare too. I was always the weird kid, the one who sat alone at lunch and never got invited to parties. People would whisper about me, saying I was crazy or that I was just looking for attention. It got to the point where I started believing them. I mean, who wouldn’t? When everyone around you is telling you that you’re insane, it’s hard not to start thinking that maybe they’re right. Though, I can’t even really blame them. I avoided looking at clocks like the plague, I flinched a lot when someone was behind me and I was always so, so tired.
Maybe people saw or even felt the heaviness - the dreadfulness - surrounding me, but ignored it.
Eventually, I managed to finish school and move out. To hide, to be alone. I got used to the feeling and I got used to the things I saw and dreamed of.
But then, an hour ago, something happened that changed everything. Which is why I’m here right now.
I was scrolling through Reddit, just like I do every damn night, when I got a message. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I mean, I get random messages from time to time, usually just spam or someone trying to sell me something.
But when I opened this one, I knew on an instant that I wasn’t insane. Nothing that has ever happened throughout my whole life has ever been the result of insanity. So, naturally, the first thing I did was letting out a short laugh, out of pure relief, before my world eventually shattered once more.
I instantly figured that this was worse than insanity.
And please, if someone has ever experienced the same thing or even felt the same way as I did, please tell me. You have to tell me. I don’t even know if I should reply, act like nothing has happened or move across the globe to forget everything.
I’m scared. My heart is still pounding so hard that I feel nothing but nausea. But I took a screenshot anyways because this, despite everything, is the only proof that I have. Even if it makes something more real than it should be.
Here goes nothing:
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[Image: Screenshot Sunday 10. Mar 2024 - 3:34]
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From: 3333 - [03/10/2024, 33:33am]
hi :)