It's long, please enjoy:
Life fascinates me sometimes. How it can be so grand for one and the greatest pain for another. It is so odd how we are all born into different worlds with different face, changed personalities, and our own perspective. How are we thrust into the separate bodies, do we choose where to place our minds, and are we forever caged in these shells of humanity? I believe in God; I'm Catholic, after all. But these wonders of the world never cease to confuse me still, and perhaps they are curious thoughts that whose answers we are not meant to know. Or perhaps there is no reason at all, although I can't imagine God not having an objective or reason behind anything He does.
I also wanted to take the time to reflect on some potentially disturbing revelations that I had when I bought a word search the other day in the airport. I realized that when I was young, I used to play a game with myself. I would hold my breath until I had found a certain number of words in the puzzle (in a row, of course). I don't remember ever failing, to be honest, but I do remember my vision blurring and eyes straining to see the letters, the burning in my lungs that were begging for air, and my limbs growing slightly weak with the sudden lack of oxygen. But I didn't relent because deep down I knew there would be worse consequences if I failed...what those consequences were and who would issue the punishment, I don't know. But none of it seemed strange to me. I frequently played these mind games of life and death. If I didn't make up it up the stairs before someone walked into the kitchen or if I didn't finish a math problem before a commercial was over, etc, then I would die. And I never failed at my personal competitions because I didn't want to die yet. I would idly think, "How would I explain my death? I failed to type a sentence before the minute was up? Would they understand?" The fact that I would logically never die this way did not occur to me. The fact that I was being irrational was irrelevant and did not cross my mind. I convinced myself it was true, and I never told a soul.
Perhaps that would have been the first clue that I have something wrong with me. This gambling of my life and unique form of control that I inwardly displayed without fail. I forget about these things until some random thing reminds me, such as buying the word search. This never ending competition with myself and acting like life is a game. I don't know if I'll ever come to terms with reality. And even as I sit on this windowsill, writing these thoughts kept hidden from anyone I know, I still don't know if what I do is normal or if I really am out of my mind.