Maladaptive Daydreaming: where wild minds come to rest
I already stopped counting how many times I pushed the 'Add Blog Post' button. I must have produced thousand words so far; they disappeared as soon as they appeared, those cripple words which my thoughts did not want to embody, and which, therefore, my fingers mercilessly erased. I have never liked the beginnings, those first steps, first words which have never been truly first.
Since I can remember I have never been alone.
Since I can remember I have never been just 'myself'.
I have always been leading a double life, meandering more or less skillfully between two worlds.
However, as I grew older, I felt more and more split and somehow I knew that I was slowly reaching the crossroads, that point where I would have to choose between 'this' and the 'other' world. Those days, I hated the sunrise, I wished it never happened. I dreamt of letting myself plunge in my daydreams, numbing my senses to the external world, I dreamt of turning 'inwards', shutting myself off completely.
There was still the other part of me, the one who wanted me to stay. At the back of my head I kept the image of myself, waking up suddenly, as if I were a princess in a fairy tale, and seeing the old lonely woman who spent her entire life pacing around her small room, wasting her life for living a dream. The dream of a good life she could have had if she tried.
I still keep this image as I try to live a life I am dreaming about.
I am still meandering between these worlds, between these 'me'.
I am dreaming life and living a dream.
My name is Reverie.