Are they laughing at me? Was that supposed to be funny? I better not say the wrong thing.
Was THAT supposed to be funny?
Was I supposed to laugh?
Are they looking at ME?
Can I leave yet?

Thoughts become your worries, worries become your thoughts. Ruminating on your negative thoughts is never helpful. They say the psychological response to events happening is even more paramount than the event itself.

Horrible flashing images, constant reminders nagging on your brain, the most negative form of “what if” imaginable. Outing yourself to fit in.

Questioned non-stop. Or do you question yourself?

Walking through a room with broken glass.
Or in a lower level room that starts to fill up with water until it’s up to your chest, suffocating you. No magical button or lever to make it all stop.

And the worst part is, no one sees it stalking you.
Never knowing when it will come. He creeps up like an unwanted dinner guest. And you never have enough food for him, he always wants more. He eats ferociously, draining you and leaves with no thank you or sorry for sucking up everything in you.

Avoid situations because you don’t have energy to explain why you become unraveled whenever you’re in the presence of people.

Scary thing is, is that anxiety is something the brain makes up and your body starts to believe it. Because why would a part of your body lie to another part? Why would you lie to yourself?

Anxiety gives you anxiety. Self destructive cycle. If I could calm down I would.

Scratch myself raw and beat myself purple trying to force the feeling out of my skin or beat it out of my mind.

All the words of encouragement, of hope, the hugs, the safe rooms, the dark closets, the songs, the books and poems that seem to calm me, all the therapists in the world, could not get rid of this lingering feeling I harbour.

It’s dug itself deep into my core. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to grab the knife and dig it back out.
I fear all, and fear all of my fears. I try to fill my mind with distractions. Substances. Nothing helps.
Retracing every step, constantly checking and rechecking. Doubting.

Hands shaking so other’s can see how unbalanced I am. Shoulders stiff, body tense, looking out of place. Nothing feels right.

I notice everything. Changes in tone, attitude, posture, mannerisms, and moods. It’s exhausting. Overwhelming.

I’ve learnt that the door I’ve felt locked behind my whole life was to keep me in, not to keep others out. For my benefit but mostly for theirs.

Stuck somewhere between what if, what might, what should, what could have, and what never will. But all I want to know is, what actually IS.

I have become a master at breaking my own heart. Holding onto such grand expectations, I demand perfection in all aspects of my life. So much to live up to, so many self imposed ends to meet. When I continually fail to add up to my expectations I find myself falling deeper into my little rabbit hole I’ve dug for myself.

All I’m doing is setting myself up for disappointment. No where close to free. I trapped myself long ago in a cage that kept me inhibited by my worst fears: feeling inadequate, losing sense of self, and feeling entirely alone.

This cage lead to feelings of overwhelming tension, isolation, self-hatred and apprehension about being able to control my emotions.

Which seemed to result in a frightening sense of unreality and emptiness that created an emotional numbness within me. Depersonalization. Maybe that’s why my evil side is brought forth more these days.
I’m slowly self-destructing. Something increasingly toxic is taking over the me I once knew. It’s taking over my life. I try so hard to keep it under strict control, but to no avail.

The voice that tells me everything is going to be okay no longer sounds friendly. I see through him. He has my destruction as his goal, not my happiness.
Caged in a life of attachment, desolation, the destruction of myself.

So caught up in my “intelligence,” thinking my way is the only way, not realizing that it’s slowly killing me.

Other species use their given intelligence to survive, but us humans use it to destroy ourselves.

Do I want this or something? Can I crave the feelings I withhold while destroying myself but also long to live a successful life and make my mark in this world?

The tug of destruction seems to pull me much harder.
Is it possibly a crucial part of us, necessary in order to transform ourselves? To be the people we long to be?
Others seem to be tugged the other way a little harder. Clearly special beings.

How could an ordinary girl like me, no will power, no talent, ignorant to the ways of the world possibly soften the fear, doubt and self-hatred that stalks me down every corner?

How do I eliminate the ruminated feelings, shut in-mind the dangerous and crippling thoughts that turned me into a careless beast?

Should I simply accept my future as a winding road that never ends, trapped inside that door by my timidness and unjust expectations?

Or is it possible to awaken myself from this zombie like state of spiritual numbness?

I’m too afraid to fall again. Rock bottom almost seems like a good spot to lay my head. This low is feeling a lot safer than embarking into the unknown. I could fall again and it could be worse this time.

But I know that anger and sadness are acids that destroy its own container. I don’t want to destroy myself anymore. I will do my best to no longer deface or destroy myself for a means of feeling something.
But I can’t lie, I really never had seen battles quite as tragically beautiful as the ones I fight when my mind flees and misfires, enveloping me into my own decaying madness, once again.

But I am sick of seeing beauty in my sadness and searching for tragedy in my joy. For once I want to know that what is, IS. With no confusion and no pain in the process.

I want to open this heavy door I’ve been locked behind my whole life and let people in, but most of all get out there and feel what it’s like to really live.