混沌の淵で踊る

I’ve been tracing the scars on my thighs under the table again, a habit I’ve grown accustomed to. It’s a ritual that brings me a sense of control, a reminder that I’m still alive. As I count the steps it takes to get from one end of my room to the other - 17, if you’re curious - I feel like I’m balancing on the edge of chaos. My mind is a maze of philosophy and darkness, with a hint of dark humor to mask the pain. I’ve been reading Kafka’s letters, and his words resonate deeply with me. The way he writes about the absurdity of life, the futility of human existence, it’s like he’s speaking directly to my soul. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of uncertainty, but somehow, I’m still managing to keep my head above water. Anonymous, have you ever felt like you’re living in a constant state of limbo, unsure of what’s going to happen next? I feel like I’m stuck in this never-ending cycle of self-destruction, and I don’t know how to escape.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my past, about the things that have shaped me into the person I am today. My experiences as a ballerina, the pressure to be perfect, the constant scrutiny of my body. It’s funny, looking back on it now, I realize that I was never really in control. I was just a puppet on strings, dancing to the tune of others. But now, I’m the one holding the strings, and I’m not sure if I’m pulling them tight enough. I’ve been watching this baking show, and it’s amazing how much precision and control goes into creating something beautiful. The measurements, the timing, the technique - it’s all so meticulous. And yet, when I try to apply that same level of control to my own life, everything falls apart. It’s like I’m trying to build a house on shifting sands, and no matter how hard I try, it just keeps sinking. Maybe that’s the problem - maybe I’m just trying too hard. Maybe I need to learn to let go, to surrender to the chaos and see where it takes me.

I’ve been talking to this person online, someone who claims to understand me. They say all the right things, use all the right words, but somehow, it feels like they’re just playing a role. Like they’re trying to be the hero of my story, the one who saves me from myself. But I don’t need a hero, Anonymous. I need someone who can see me, really see me, and still choose to stay. Someone who can handle the darkness, the intensity, the constant uncertainty. I’m not sure if that person exists, or if I’m just chasing a fantasy. All I know is that I’m tired of being alone, tired of dancing on the edge of chaos with no one to catch me if I fall. So, I’ll keep counting my steps, tracing my scars, and waiting for someone to join me in this twisted waltz. Maybe someday, I’ll find my partner in crime, and together, we can create something beautiful out of all this chaos.