I am drained. Emotional. Physically. Maybe I'm just overreacting. It's hard to tell sometimes. Sometimes I don't breathe. I just hold my breath until my lungs scream for air. I hold it as long as I can. I take comfort in those moments of not breathing, as if it's one less thing I have to worry about. The amount of times tears have streamed down my cheeks in the past 2 weeks is just sad. The amount of tears the I've bottled up is unreal. The amount of moments I just wanted to stop, to break down, to cry out in pain, to beg the world to just let me be, are uncountable. Panic attacks or anxiety, I'm not sure anyone could tell the difference. What are you even worried about? They'd ask me, you're not doing anything. I want to tell them that it doesn't work like that, that I can't choose when or where these take place. I want to tell them that there isn't certain events or places that I can just avoid. Instead I say nothing because even if I do speak up, no one will believe me. I've learned to suppress most of the awful things I thing during the day. I lock them in a vault in my mind. I try to make it by. Drifting through life, as they say. I fake it til I make it, and I've gotten all too good at it. I've learned to laugh at all the right moments, how to smile through the pain, how to reduce the shaking and twitching to a minimum. I've learned which people can take me at my worst, and which can't. It's become a game that I know all too well. A game I never wanted to be a part of.
Until next time,
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