when i get a cat i will name it kafka

i was trying to find an old paper i wrote and ended up finding this journal entry instead. filled with dread thinking about how in some ways im still stuck here all these years later.

it’s astonishing to me how you can live for years, be such a complicated person, have countless stories you cherish, countless moments you despise and yet all of the nuances and details that you hold close to your heart go through the window when someone else perceives you. how can it be that these lived experiences that haunt me don’t matter to the rest of the world, even those dearest to me? ofc they aren’t all bad though. some of them have shielded me and other have guided me for which i am forever grateful even if it’s bittersweet.

the world feels dim when you’re not wanting to be in it. it feels like it’s all shutting in on you and no one is batting an eye. they always say to find the light that keeps you going but they never talk about how for some of us it’s about getting adjusted to the dark so it doesn’t become all consuming bc there’s no other option. it’s like a room with 4 walls and no windows or outside communication. perhaps you even know there’s an outside world but there’s no way to get to it or you may even be amongst the outside world but your own mental state holds you from letting loose. you’re just there.

maybe i don’t need to look past all of my trauma and pain. maybe it has shaped who i am.