I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I love to dream and dream about fantasy worlds, usually medieval in nature, and every night I listen to music just to keep my brain awake enough to fantasize some more.

Problem is, it leaves me exhausted every day, I can’t focus on my actual life, I’m friendly with others in school but the last time I had a friend at my house was probably elementary school (even then I’m not sure. I’m a high schooler now), The work I do is drawling to me whereas a year or so ago it captivated me, I question things too much, too little, I. I don’t know what to do with my life.

I don’t want to give up dreaming, I’ve looked in to maybe writing or drawing to have an outlet but I can never find the right words, it all just becomes dialogue on the page as my head plays the setting for me in the background. I’m taking a creative writing course but my ideas clash with each other and I can’t pin one story down long enough to not be distracted and torn away by others.

For most of last year I kept myself on a strict sleeping schedule to prevent myself from daydreaming my nights away. My grades were all A’s, my parents loved how positive I was in the mornings, I didn’t ever have bags under my eyes, I was happy.

But I was empty. I had no creative thoughts whatsoever. When I did, I started to feel sad and started to overthink things, so I shut it out. I was happy, I was bright and good and everything, but I wasn’t me.

Now I’m in sophomore year and I’ve given in to daydreaming again. School is no longer a place of learning to me, it’s a chore that I despise, the material is drawling and easy despite my taking all honors classes (and one AP). I’m not doing homework because I just go home and fall in to my bed and turn on the music, fall down in to my fantasy again and again, go to different worlds, see different people, fly on dragons with my favorite characters, all the while my tower of assignments grows. I’ve lied about stomach issues just to finish work with energy that I don’t have, turning in work that would make one cringe had they seen my effort last year.

I’m torn in half here. To scramble with work, have no friends that last longer than a week, have holes in my mind where names of real people should be, replaced with those of fantasy characters of my own creation. To be a failure in everyone else’s eyes. And yet be myself.

Or. I go back to strict sleeping schedules. And be the one straight A honors, bright and cheery girl my family and teachers and friends love. To be happy. But not me.

I don’t know anymore.