Sitting in the corner of every room was eternally that fucking suitcase. Every room, every place, every time. Ever moving, ever-growing, but never budging.
Just it existing would give me a violent twitch in my leg. An uncontrollable earthquake powered by anxiety.
All I needed was a job, an income then I would be fine. Happiness was obsolete, always was. The suit was itchy, my tie was tighter than my belt and the case only made me hate that I was able to feel more. For how clean this office was, the blandness stung, not unlike the bite of cold wind. Although winter is my favourite season, I had never been colder nor felt it so harshly.
*photo of tie in suitcase*
It didn't belong at that party but then again neither did I. If there was a chance I could be cool I was going to take it but how could I have known it would come with such self doubt.
Sometimes I have this super power where I can feel like I actually belong in social settings, but I just haven't learnt how to control it yet. I would be lying if I said that the party sucked, it was loud and seizure inducing, others would say perfect. I dressed up in my nice shirt and everything. Every room I didn't even need look for the case, but I couldn't find anyone I knew for more than a minute or two. They’re my friends, right. We've got similar interests, right. I’m not alone. right.
*photo of nice shirt in suit case*
After trying to connect to others online, I was only all the more ready to just hide away in social exclusion.
To join in on Instagram I bought a candle that said “MOOD”. I assumed that being online meant my luggage couldn't do much. Unfortunately trying to fit in is not something greatly appreciated on the internet as, I was bombarded with messages about being a faker and a sheep, ironical by a heard of other teenagers.
*photo of mood candle*
Nine years old is apparently old enough to be deemed as a danger and burden. I guess I was just too emotional.
In year five at lunch, probably on a Tuesday (I hated Tuesdays because I had math). Some kids from another class in my year were pestering me, I just sat eating my lunch. Always being told that if you don't react they leave you alone, and that bullies only bully people because they were bullied or have bad home lives. I made my first mistake thinking teachers and parents new better. It had already been two years of this; sitting and listening to rich kids with loving parents, feeding my self hatred.
The principal told me I shouldn't have bit him. “You aren't allowed to behave like that. Outbursts like that don't change anything.” She was wrong after all the kids saw how aggressive I could get, bullies stayed away… as well as all the few friends I had left.
*photo of school uniform in suit case*
Last year the blurring started happening. Thought I was able to move again to be free so I bought a calendar to organise my days. I apologise to the environment for the waste of paper.
At the beginning of the year I thought a routine would help me get on track and organised. Soon enough I had forgotten what day it was, every day. After a few more weeks I couldn't remember when I last had a shower. One month more and I would only eat when I had food but I was too tired to go to the shops. Three months in and the days and nights started to blur, I was sleeping… well I assume I was because I was always in bed.
*photo of calendar in suit case*
What am I supposed to do go around telling people I'm depressed. No instead ill just lie awake at night hating myself.
At last I've had enough. I open the suitcase and find these things; trinkets of lost memories, McGuffins from my own past, my baggage. this is what I've been hauling around all this time. I attempt to empty the case only to find more and more underneath.
*video of loop of pulling out clothes*
How am I supposed to get better if getting rid of my problem only makes it worse. I need help…
I need help
I need help.
I need help.
*photo of me crying into suitcase*
For all my crying out for it through only wearing hoodies,
*photo of hoodies beside the suitcase*
And all the coffee I drank,
*photo of coffee cup beside suitcase*
All it really took was me being brave enough to ask and someone to listen and help.
So that's why I'm seeking help today and actually letting someone see my baggage. And it turns out, when someone else helps you unpack, you can actually start making progress.