When I’m in a bad place I’ll take any sensory overload I can control. I’ll listen to music loud enough to block out the outside and most of my thoughts. I’ll dive into a film or an episode.
It was raining tonight. As I was waiting for the train I stood outside the station. The train that would take me away from my home and to the house I was trying to escape. I just stood outside, face up towards the rain. It wasn’t a storm, it barely rains hard here, it’s usually no more than a long drizzle but this was a little stronger. I stood in the darkness, cars and people would pass and look at me. Did they think I was high or crazy or suicidal? Perhaps a combination of those. I pushed them away from my mind, I knew they wouldn’t recognise me even if they saw me again. One thing I’ve learned is that people don’t care about those they don’t know, most people forget the faces they see instantly.
I was standing face up, eyes closed in the rain feeling it crash softly against my skin. It felt like a thousand small pokes, each one confirming the same thing: I was still alive. It wasn’t invasive or violent, it was kind of just… there. And it felt good after having felt untouchable for so long. It was a small moment of peace in the middle of all this turmoil. A space where I could breathe without feeling crushed by whatever the world throws at me. I could feel the solid ground at my feet. For a few seconds at a time I felt completely free and I didn’t care who stared, who pushed me down, who made me feel trapped, unwanted, useless, or invisible. I was myself. And I was free.