Confused. Lost. Following the flow. Wherever, whatever offered. Followed. There's a lack of feeling in following. A lack of thought. A lack of everything. Everything, but distraction. Distraction could be defined as bliss. A fast paced blessing threatened by its opposite. Free time. Free time is hell. Free time is what feels, what breathes, it's what allows you to sit and think. It is the single most deadly moment, action, thing. It is something you can't help. Something inevitable. You can escape through distractions, but eventually you're left with just what you dread; just you and your thoughts. How to help it? You can't. You can't do anything. You can't do a single thing. You try to fill it. You squirm away. You run. You try to escape. That's all that you can think of, an escape. You chase the escape. Eventually, you escape from something that wasn't the initial goal. You don't escape the thoughts, the feelings, the conflicted emotions. You escape from yourself. Not in a freeing way. Not in a healthy way. You escape in a way that results in loss. The loss of yourself. You lose bits and pieces. It's gone. You're gone, but somehow you're okay. You are not you. You're new and fresh, but gone.
Sitting down and facing yourself is hard. Sure, we look at ourselves countless times a day in the mirror and assess how presentable we look, but how often do we check if our inner self is looking okay? If we feel off, then do we stop and ask ourselves why or do we ignore it and cover it up with distractions? Usually the latter. As college kids, we are constantly waving through levels of high stress. When we are not studying, we're diving in an ocean of diversions. No one stops to question if this is healthy or consider its long-term effects on their self-identity. Or at least, not until it begins to feel like it's swallowing you whole, but by then resurfacing feels like an arduous, unthinkable task.
One overzealous night out every couple months turns into five, five into 10, 10 into every time you're out. No one questions you. No one acts like this is a problem. If anything, they praise you and the "fun" that you bring to the table. The "fun" as a representation of your inner turmoil is a whirlwind. It is easily caught up in and miserably hard to get out of.
The "fun" is not fulfilling. We all feel the draining effect is has on us. It helps us breathe a little in the moment, it clears our minds, it curves our mouths upwards, but does it last? As soon as we are in solitude, our minds begin again, thoughts rush back in, our true selves refuse to be evaded for any longer. Escape, escape, escape. The intensity caused by the escape result in the further need for it. You can only slab so much glue on the unleveled house of sticks, before it all tumbles down. You know that. We all know that. But not many of us have the strength to take it apart stick by stick and rebuild.
We need each other. We need our behavior not to be normalized by our peers. We need to recognize self-harmful actions for what they are. We need to reach out. We need to face ourselves. We have to stop trying to escape.
