Internal Monologues #1: Introversion as Outside Perception

Internal Monologues #1: Introversion as Outside Perception

A Story by T. Greyman
"

Let's see how this goes.

"
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
I think it's fair to say you've done a pretty bad job so far, and you've still got quite a while to go yet. However will you manage to fix things now when you're this deep in the s**t?
Where should I start? How everything just seems like a big charade, how you yourself find it so hard to talk to a single person that you need to stifle the anxiety with a quiet, but confident demeanour? How you've stopped doing everything you loved because you saw no point? When's the last time you made music on your computer? Or even played the drums? How long have they been collecting dust in your bedroom? How long has it been since you even wrote? You used to be very excited about that, you know. You even started calling yourself a writer for a while, yep, it's all just a charade, isn't it? You know what, forget all that. When's the last time you had a meal?
Oh my, oh my. So many questions already, and we've barely scratched the surface. Is this really what goes through your head all the time? Damn, no wonder you can't sleep most nights nowadays, and even during the day you don't do anything. You tried college twice and neither time really worked out for you as well. They both had the same pattern, the same with primary and secondary school as well. You didn't really get a long with all the people there, mainly because they didn't get along with you. I guess that's okay, not everyone has to like each other. But what about the people you actually called your friends? You were never really that close with them, never really connected. Shame, they actually thought they connected pretty well with you. Playing therapist for them helps, but they never listen to your problems. How come? Are they selfish? No, it's because you don't f*****g tell them. People aren't scary, you know, they'll listen if you talk! Just f*****g talk! But you never do, you don't trust them. You haven't been able to trust anyone for quite a while now, and being naturally quiet and introverted doesn't really help matters either. I remember when you were sitting in a corner of the field all by yourself back in primary school peeling the long grass, and a playground assistant came over and asked you why you were sitting by yourself. Do you remember feeling sad then, or just empty? Or were you perfectly fine, but just an introverted kid that the nice teaching assistant concluded. You don't remember how you felt then, but you know you've been in situations that you shouldn't have been in though, just to put that gently. Every kid has some bad times every now and again, but your's just seemed to never end. But you told her you were fine, that's fair enough. You didn't really understand what you were doing or what you were going through back then, but they still brought you down. Shame.
This entire pattern, down to a playground assistance that just asked if you were okay. This is a pattern that's followed you throughout your life. Feel sad about something, take up a hobby to distract yourself, fail at said hobby, give up, feel sad again. Feel guilty about doing nothing, feel guilty for having smaller problems than a lot of your friends on the rare occasion you're talking about your own. Not to mention the fact you feel like s**t for feeling guilty with a warm bed and a roof over your head. Not to mention the fact that just today a friend got some news concerning her own issues, and what do you do about it instead of helping her in her time of need? You sit up all night writing a whiny little attempt at martyrdom disguised poorly as an internal monologue. Nice going, mate. All this has made you uncertain and uneasy about the future, but you never panic about it. Why don't you panic? You never really think about the future. You didn't even realise your 20th birthday was coming up, because you really try hard not to think about it. You never thought you'd make it this far, did you? No.
But you did, and you're still in the same pit you were before. Do you remember writing An Outstretched Hand for a friend of your's? How you talked about being depressed and how you got yourself out of it. You never really did, I guess if you lie enough you tend to believe it yourself. Or at least you suppress the guilt of the lies and such, because you never really believe them. There's always that little voice in the back of your head calling you out on your bullshit. Hell, it does that every time you open your mouth now, it's all just bullshit. You really thought everything was okay for a while. Remember that film 1408? When John Cusack is stuck in a demonic hotel and there's a part where he thinks he's out and wakes up on a beach, he goes about his daily life for a while and starts noticing odd signs that remind him of that hotel room. Then suddenly the walls all cave in and he realises that he was always in the room. That's how you feel right now, and I remember you saying that that hotel room must've literally been Hell. Or at least someone's interpretation of it. Maybe yours.
It's always thoughts like these that take you to that one big conclusion, you get to it every time at some point during the day. Every day for the last 7 or 8 years at least. Wow, 11 years old and thinking about suicide, that pretty pa-Oh, no! Not THAT word! That big, evil word that shines like an open door in a dark dungeon. That's a pretty scary word, isn't it? Well, it should be, so why not to you? I guess it makes sense when it's on your mind quite a lot, you'd become pretty desensitised by the notion and look at it in a logical sense after a while. So let's think about it logically, shall we? You're going nowhere in life, you've managed to disappoint yourself and others with your grades and your personality at every school you've ever attended, everything that you ever enjoyed or that you're good at just isn't stimulating you any more. Hell, you've even taken at least a couple of VERY long breaks when you were writing this. And all the anxiety and the mistrust you have with people just doesn't go away, no matter how much you open up and no matter how much they accept it. All this s**t has seeped into your personality making you so afraid of failure that you don't even try to accomplish anything any more, you're too afraid of telling people that you're sad, you're too afraid of their companionship and, let's not forget, you're too afraid to get close enough to people for a relationship. I mean why run the risk of more hurt when you can just be empty inside? That hurts just as much, maybe even worse, and you're coming to that realisation more and more now. But you'll still try and convince yourself that things will get better, and the harsh reality behind that is that you've been telling yourself that your entire life. Nothing changes. So. From a logical point? I'm wondering why you haven't killed yourself years ago. Sure, you tried unsuccessfully. But does Fate care about you if it'll stop the attempt from working but not give you the strength to get yourself out of the pit? Clearly not. So. Do it. I won't stop you. But you will, you do every time. You're too afraid to even do that. Face it, boy. You're a coward and you need help.
Well, this was fun. Wow, 3am! Well, I won't keep you from lying awake in bed all night again, I'm sure you've still got a lot to think about.
We should do this again sometime.

© 2013 T. Greyman


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Added on December 5, 2013
Last Updated on December 6, 2013
Tags: Introspection, Monologue, Childhood, Depression, Introversion

Author

T. Greyman
T. Greyman

Barnet, North London, United Kingdom



About
One of you. more..

Writing
Hey, Dad. Hey, Dad.

A Story by T. Greyman