Last night I kept dreaming of being in institutions–boarding schools and psych units. For once, the psych unit dreams weren’t bad. It was being somewhere that people noticed I existed every day, not just once a week or when they needed something done.
In my real life, I go days without talking to anyone. I rarely leave my bedroom, let alone my apartment. If I disappeared, who would even notice? It would take weeks for anyone to realize I wasn’t here anymore. Probably not until rent or bills came due and didn’t get paid. Then add a few days before they’d decide it wasn’t just that I was depressed and ignoring my phone.
It’s like I’m barely here. Right now, I’m not even sure I really do exist.
So I sleep, and I dream, and in my dreams, I am real, I exist, there is a space for me where I am held. And then I wake up and there is nothing, I am nothing.