Sometimes I want to cry because I need to. Sometimes I don’t want to cry because I don’t need to. Sometimes I cry too much. Sometimes I want to cry because I need to.

I can’t stop now, but a good cry is cleansing. A good, deep, soulful cry; the one that comes from the broken heart. Or when sorrow is actualized. In this case, maybe both.

I react as a normal person would; I know that I cannot make myself better if I dwell on things I cannot change. I know that I can be down on myself when I should not be. I have to overcome myself, and I know that, but I don’t ignore it. I don’t deny the truth, and not in a jaded sense, but I have every right to feel.

And now I feel hurt, but I know that it is necessary to heal. I just wish it didn’t have to be that way.

I have felt miserable believing I was someone I am truly not; I fell down the rabbit hole, and I liked it. But it was then that I began to become disassociated again.

That ‘realization of self’ that I like to call it.

I used to think it was a cool sensation to experience.

But it’s not.

It takes me away from reality. And while reality may be only an illusion or one spec on the spectrum (a point of view if you will), but maybe reality is like a level in a game.

Maybe in this level I finally learn the controls.