My mind is a maze of thoughts, each one leading to another, and another. I overanalyze everything, from the words I speak to the way I walk. It's exhausting, this constant need to be flawless, to never make a mistake.
I remember vividly the first time I realized I was different. It wasn't when I couldn't sleep because my mind was racing with endless what-ifs, or when I found myself paralyzed by fear at the mere thought of failure. No, it was the subtle glances, the hushed whispers that followed me wherever I went.
At school, I was the quiet kid who always sat in the back of the class, lost in his own thoughts while the world moved on without him. I watched my classmates laugh and play, their carefree smiles a stark contrast to the furrowed brow and clenched jaw that seemed to be permanently etched onto my face.
I longed to join them, to shed the weight of my worries and dance in the sunlight like they did. But every time I tried, I felt the walls closing in around me, suffocating me with their silent judgment. It was as if I was trapped in a bubble, looking out at the world from behind a barrier that no one else could see.
My parents tried their best to understand, to break through the invisible walls that separated me from the rest of the world. They enrolled me in therapy, hoping that talking to a stranger would somehow make the chaos inside my mind more manageable. But no matter how many sessions I attended, or how many pills I swallowed in the hopes of finding some semblance of peace, the storm raged on unabated.
I envied those who seemed to glide through life effortlessly, their worries slipping off them like water off a duck's back. To them, the world was a playground, full of endless possibilities just waiting to be explored. But to me, it was a minefield, each step fraught with the possibility of disaster.
And so I retreated further into myself, building walls around my heart to protect it from the pain of rejection and ridicule. I became the boy in the bubble, watching the world pass me by from the safety of my own mind. And though I longed to break free, to burst through the walls that held me captive, I knew deep down that the only thing keeping me safe was also the very thing keeping me prisoner.