Insane in the Membrane

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic


a less the in-depth description of me

Submitted: January 16, 2018

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Submitted: January 16, 2018

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Lauren Thurston

01/15/2018

Insane in the Membrane

 

I believe in magic. As strange and childish as that seems, that is how my mind chooses to cope with how much I hate reality. I have always seen everything in a different shade then other people do. I have always been an avid fiction-book reader; the fantasy creatures and surreal places have captured my heart and imagination since childhood. As a child, I believed that those places from my books were real, waiting for me to discover them. When I reached my high school years it was probably time to let that idea go, but I fell deeper into the dream that there was some place better. All of my peers were out of the clouds and I was still floating; I seemed to relate more to characters that I read about then anyone I knew. Soon, thinking about being in a supernatural world where the imaginary characters were my friends was an affair. I saw magic in everything, because I wanted it to be there. It helped me escape my “mental illness” and inner conflict. I loved the darkness. I wanted to be swept away into its abyss and never go back. I was done dealing with my mundane life; it was sickening and I didn’t belong. Inside of my longing was a deep hatred. I hated everyone around me and having to face them every day. I hated my anxiety- I couldn’t even breathe in a room full of people. I hated that I had an illness and having to take a handful of pills to control it. I hated myself most of all, and I couldn’t run away from that. Years passed me and I still felt trapped. I tried extremely hard to fit in with the social norms but it wasn’t easy for me; it wasn’t normal. There was still no person that understood my racing imagination or the way I looked at everything. My standards for “real” people exceeded anything they could be because they would never compare to the people in my head. Eventually my feelings were dulled and any emotions numb.  I saw the world in grey and lived a colorful life in my brain. I never felt like I wanted to kill myself even though I felt like I had nothing to live for. The only purpose in my life was to get through it; I truly never looked forward to anything. I never thought anything good of myself because although I had high standards for others, I held them higher for myself. I wanted to be an incredible character that could be brave and flawless and be accepted for all the quirks I had.

More years went by and my way of thinking matured, but my vivid dreams have never stopped. I have learned how to put on a face for society, one where they see me as an ordinary adult. For a while I found it hard to keep my “senseless” thoughts to myself because in my mind they were brilliant. The people I made up were the ones who inspired me and encouraged me to be my creative self. They have given me all the ideas I have for my writing, and have paradoxically kept me sane. I still wish I lived in an alternative universe, and metaphorically I do. The way I think is still sinister and tragic, but in a peculiar way, it gives me clarity. If people could see the way I think, they would see miles of beautiful imagery.  Pictures so clear that they might even start to believe in magic the same way I do. They would see pain running through black rivers, fed by clouds of memories and nightmares, ending in a waterfall of shimmering ecstasy. This is where my kingdom lives; the creatures and spirits who protect me from giving in to the haunting lullabies that beckon me back to the rivers. There is no reality here; I have created a place of fictional bliss. This is the place I get lost in, the place of personal serenity. Of course it would be misunderstood, laughed at, even frightening and that’s why nobody else can ever see it. It’s all in my head.


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