Am I Flying?

No, motherfucker, you're not really flying.

But sometimes it kinda feels like I am. Why? Because I'm delusional.

Which is bad.

But I know I'm delusional.

Which is good.

See, knowing I'm delusional means I can manage it. I can counter the delusional thinking, keep myself grounded (literally and figuratively), and better be aware of how I'm acting and what I'm saying. My delusions right now aren't all that bad, really. I feel like I'm not real - I don't really exist. OR, like nothing else is real - therefor everything is pointless and stupid because it doesn't really exist. OR, like I'm outside my body, floating above it looking down. I'm watching myself do things but I'm not really doing them. The floating feeling is strong. Very strong.

And I'm at work while this is going on. Which, really, isn't good. But again, I know I'm delusional, so that helps. I think I'm doing a pretty good job of hiding it, or playing it off. My best friend and coworker, L, says not so much. But she knows me and all my little quirks. Of COURSE she's going to know if something is off! Though how she describes it . . . "you could see you starting to withdraw, starting to disappear. And then . . . you were just gone. There was nothing left. And that's when I worried." I came back, according to her, but while I was gone it wasn't good.

That's a little disconcerting to hear. Makes me wonder if other people truly can tell. If so, no one says anything.

Anyway, I don't like being delusional. I just want to be okay. I want to have a normal rang of emotions - no extremes like I have now. Just be okay, go about my life, and not have to constantly be on alert. Not constantly have to battle my own thoughts. Not constantly struggle. That would be real fucking nice.