Dreamer

I was addicted to a fantasy world. I doubt anyone can really relate to this. It feels like a real addiction.

Anyway, I had this world I made up in my head. I thought it all up. I created characters, stories, worlds… everything. And I was addicted to making those stories and thinking of even more to add to the “rich history” of this fantasy land. And it started… slowly started… to ruin my life. Because dreaming was all I did. My mind was so active that it would keep me up at night… late. My best friend recalls that (at that point in my life) I had huge purple marks under my eyes… I looked really drained and miserable all the time. Like something was sucking the life out of me. And I just kept going. And going. And killing myself with this pathetic dreamland. Because I just wanted it to be real. I thought that the way my eyes would burn in the morning from how tired I was… I thought it was some kind of sacrifice that would help it to become real. I don’t know. I was really messed up.

I barely went out. I didn’t feel I deserved any friends but the ones that existed in my fantasy world. I self-harmed a lot. I actually wrote a list of things that would earn myself a punishment, and what the punishment was. Calling a friend would deserve something like slamming my foot in a door. I wasted several years of my life in there, prayingprayingpraying that the world was real somewhere. Because I guess it just didn’t seem right that I would suffer like that for something that didn’t exist.

But that’s over. Because I decided this summer that I didn’t have to do it anymore. I didn’t have to. I just didn’t have to. I could be free to live my life… without “caring” for the fantasy world via the continuation of stories. It’s hard sometimes. It’s really hard. Because lately I’ve been getting flashbacks. Of old stories, and for half a second… I miss it. It’s funny how something can destroy you and hurt you like that… and you can still find yourself missing it. But luckily that only lasts a second. Then I’m right back where I should be… fighting it. Sometimes all I want to do is go back to my lonely dreamland. But then I remember all the friends I’ve made since I got out.

Someday I’ll make a full recovery.