I’ve been “ejected”. From my “body”. Even as “I” am typing this. It startled me. Frightens me. Hell I’m fucking terrified.
I remember there was a time when this feeling when comforting. When it was the norm, my “default”. But now, it is no longer a comfortable blasé or nonchalant detachment – it is a retired state that has been activated on its own accord.
As I try to steady my hands and force myself to record this episode, I can hardly feel my presence. It is as if I’m in the distance, meekly controlling my body – a first person version of The Sims. My body still reacts according to my thoughts – my arms are tightly withdrawn, elbows curled up against my sides, as my eyes stare into the screen of my phone with what I imagine could be described as a blank gaze. Despite the disconnection, I still feel a tense pressure throughout my body, and I dare not love more than required – as of now that would be the tapping of my thumbs. And only that. I dare not move, I am bound by this blanket of fear that now appears to have signalled the onset of this… state.
I’m terrified and I want to cry. Yet I question, what for? There is no reason to cry. Actually there are. But none that would provoke tears, should I be anywhere near a normal state.
Nothing remarkable triggered this. None that I could think of, anyways. The onset crept onto me, like a demon that managed to cling onto my body. For the past two days I had felt a feeling of 鬼壓床 – that feeling when you wake up and you can’t move. Now, it seems like that was the gentle onset. I guess I am grateful. No. I am not. I would’ve rathered it be over and done with rather than dragged on. Be careful what you wish for though. Neither is desirable. I want to go back to the way things were. I want to start over. I want to reset.