There are a number of times that I find myself looking over the life I live. As I do so, I often find myself lost within it. A majority of my past is gone, unable to be recalled and used as a reference to ascertain where I fit into this world. My childhood is a vast empty void in my mind with the exception of a few key points of pain or anguish, and almost none of happiness or bliss.

As I look backwards into my memories to try and find myself then to help me search for myself now, I can only see distance, rather detachment, from those around me and from myself. An awkwardness fills me as I think of close relationships between myself and others, a distrust of closeness follows. Fear fills me, and self doubt overflows from the depths of my soul.

These thoughts only cause me to begin a spiraling trail of destructive thoughts, tearing myself apart inside simply because I exist yet do not know where I fit into the puzzle that is life. I think of the things I’ve learned and experienced, and nothing feels like home, nowhere feels like home. As if I’ve been stolen from the life I belong to, and placed into that of a stranger, and forced to live where they should have been.

Daily, I fight this battle, some days I manage to do so secretly behind closed doors so deeply within my mind I can hide it from even myself. Others I find myself struggling to stay afloat and remain productive.

Existential depression.


One thought on “Placeless

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