I find bliss in the empty comfort of detachment. Anytime I start coming back to reality it feels like I’m going to break down and the weight of my repressed pain is too much for me to handle. The second I try to step back into reality it’s like my head is bombarded with 7 different internal monologues all insulting and yelling at me for everything I’ve done wrong and everything I should be doing. I’ve been having severe panic attacks which come seemingly at random but they feel like heart attacks since I’m so detached from myself at this point. I have no internal monologue, nothing I look forward to, no real hope or faith, I’m just completely blank and empty aside from the small fleeting moments where I can interact with others and feel a sense of connectedness with something. I’m either completely detached or completely engaged in something and anything in between is torture.