Fear of Missing Out

Dearest Em,

Right now my room is entirely in shambles, a five alarm mess, with me huddled up in a corner, feeling as worthless as the stacks of old newspapers beside. Old furniture, old photographs on the wall clipped on yellow string lights, and the uneaten breakfast lying cold on the plate. Outside eve's falling, gradually the purple skies gleaming darker. I don't care to look at the disastrous state of things around or the disastrous state of affairs in my life; I can't. I'd rather turn a blind eye to what burns my vision and rends my heart into fragments. It's early winter, with the cold air brushing against my skin and hunger pangs aching my stomach. Yet I am unable to move, a kind of learned helplessness tying me in chains. They say it's "now or never," "live in the moment," blah, blah, blah. They think I don't know? "You only live once" so "live as if you're going to die tomorrow," and all such sayings indeed are true but what if I'm still not happy with anything in my life? Forget about living, what about the times I find it exhausting to survive, to breathe? It's not that easy, not for everyone, at least not for me. With all the panic attacks and suicidal thoughts within the four walls of my room hidden from all world, it's not easy for me. The way some people are living their lives with flying colours while mine is a grayscale monochrome, the fact that things aren't how they should be makes me feel down in the dumps, miserably. The period of storm and stress which presently life is makes me desperately want to unsubscribe adulthood and retreat back to the good old days- those days of flying kites and paper planes, of playing in the parks every evening. Howbeit there is no road to the past; all I see is a way ahead, a long one, which I need to tread down. Yet no matter how hazy it is, I see a ray of hope coming from far, like a beacon of light from a lighthouse guiding my ship. We can't skip to the good part but we can still reach there. I know things take time and we need to wait. I agree by no means that you need to make every day, every moment count, some days just surviving is an incredible, ultra inspiring human achievement. And we all should be proud of making it this far; if we look back we will see our own footprints and all the miles we travelled. It's okay to have fears, of any sort- fearing failures, fearing loneliness and sometimes even fearing hope; fearing so much until you fear nothing. It's a sign better than nonchalance; reassuring and redeeming. I couldn't care less if I see others happy, showcasing the best of their lives; that's how social media silently trolls you, the FOMO giving you adrenaline rush. Not when I know the story of my own life, why I am where I am, and where I am heading to. It's me against me, never me against the world. Everyone is in their own time zone and so am I. I think I feel better now. I'll begin with fixing whatever damage is around- my dorm and my life both. The evening's slipping away, I'll grab some coffee and put one of my healing Spotify playlists on.

With love,

Just yourself.