THIS WORLD IS SO MAD.
-Chapter 1-
“I'm a thinker, not a talker”
I’ve a war in
my brain. I think too much. I worry over things that have yet to come, wasting
time lingering over the future so much that I miss out on the joys of presents.
I'm dying from overthinking. I'm slowly killing myself by thinking about
everything. Think. Think. Think. You can never trust the human mind anyway. Just
stay home alone, listen to the music, and think too much. When alone, think. Think, remember. Remember, feel
pain, and then cry, and can't stop. I've tried to stop overthinking, but it
doesn't work.
I’m the type of people who is fine 1 second,
then overthink, and depress myself. Until a point I’m going through the entire
day remembering everything bad that’s ever happened to me. I miss going to bed
with absolutely nothing on my brain and my mind. I need to stop being over
analytic, paranoid little girl. I need to start being myself again. Because I’m
sick of missing out on the joys of this life worrying over such nonsense -
things that may not even ever happy. Overthinking just kills my happiness. All night. All I’m left with is I, Me, Myself and a very dark place.
It's a death trap. Please, get out of my head!
-Chapter 2-
“Anxiety Attacks”
Anxiety is like being thrown into a 10ft
deep pool with a ton of bricks tied to me and trying to swim to the top to
breathe. The feeling where I stay up at night, stare at I’m
ceiling, ask myself an infinite number of questions, then sit there and debate
on whether or not I actually want to know the answer. The feeling where I
wonder who truly cares about me and who is just using me. The feeling where I
feel like I’m not good enough. The feeling where I get frustrated because it’s
physically impossible to be 100% happy. The feeling where I’m not really sick
and I don’t really have a headache but I just feel wrong and I can’t get
comfortable or find something that I’m really into but I kind of feel too ill
to sleep or eat. It’s like my body saying “I don’t know what I want I to do but
this isn’t it”
I’ve full
blown panic attacks which include heart palpitations, breathing problems, shaking,
sweating and constant fear that I’m going to die when faced with situations I
find uncomfortable. Keeping quiet. Not being able to go anywhere alone. Staying
inside all day. Are hating eye contact, eating in front of people, counting
money before I pay, not leaving voicemails, paying for things at a shop, asking
for a help, always preparing what to say, bumping into people you know, feeling
embarrassed all the time.
I can’t knock
on a door or ask for extra napkins. I can’t call you and ask how you are. I
can’t raise my hand without the fear of being wrong. I can’t hang out with new
people. I can’t live with my life. Intense feelings of fear, doom, foreboding,
and gloom. A sudden urgency to escape, run away, or get out. The fear that I
may lose control of I thoughts and actions. Dizziness. Nausea and vomiting. A
feeling like I might pass out. Trembling or shakiness. Weakness. Difficulty
breathing. Pounding or racing heart. Hot or cold flashes. Chest pain. Hands and
feet may feel numb. I may be lightheaded or woozy. Irrational thoughts and a
number of other physical, psychological, and emotional symptoms. It’s like
being in a cage that’s unlocked, I can get out but I’ve trapped myself. It’s
like suffocating but I’m still breathing.
Having
anxiety is staying in bed and then panicking because I don’t want to fail.
Having anxiety wants to go see my friends so I don’t lost them all. Having
anxiety is insanely hard and sucks to deal with it. Those panic attacks are
breaking me, and I just keeping quiet and never talking about my feelings
because the fear of anyone thinking of me as “dramatic” or an “attention
seeker” haunts me. But, wanting and wish so much to speak to other people and
could tell someone everything / my little dark secrets I really like, but
anxiety and embarrassment don’t let me so instead I just hope they’ll speak to
me and be my friends. Sorry but I
can’t control my feelings. I can’t tolerate this pain anymore. I just need a
break from life. It’s not a way to live. It’s a way to die. SHIT!
-Chapter 3-
“Mental Disorder”
When I’m
fighting a mental illness, I’m fighting a silent battle and no one over sees
just how hard I constantly have to fight. I’m fighting this all alone. Mental illness
is a chemical imbalance in the brain, mental illness is not moods or choices, moods
or choices are altered as a result of mental illness. That is not my opinion,
that is a fact. Sometimes I just shut myself down. No motivation for anything.
I tell myself that nobody cares, even though I know same do. I think about all
of the negative things. I could possibly think of. I lay in bed, for hours in
the dark night. Thinking about, every possible thing in my life. I give myself
all the pain, thinking I deserve it.
You know when
you’re so depressed you can’t move? And it feels like you’re physically sick?
And you only feel worst? And at the empty night, an empty room, an empty
people. Spending all alone. Doubting whether I should confess. Held back for
everyone. Try to open up, but something's pulling back. Gave last tries. Sitting
silently on the floor. Falling back into bad habits. Sleeve rolled up, exposing
skin. Drags the blade and presses in. The pain it brings can’t compare. To the
joy we knows will soon be there. It’s worth the scars that never heal. For just
a moment, not to feel. Yeah! But that’s how I feel right now.
I’m happy on
the outside, but inside something gnaw at me; some sleeplessness, - melancholy,
indifference, - desire for life, and the next instant, desire for death: some
kind of sweet peace, some kind of numbness, absent-mindedness; and sometimes
definite memories worry me. My mind is sour, bitter, salt; some hideous jumble
of feelings shakes me! I’m stupider than ever.
Wake. The. Fuck. Up. Depression isn’t special
and isn’t an act. Anxiety is not cute. Eating disorders aren’t phases and
glamorous. Suicide isn’t poetic and isn’t a coward’s escape. Self-harming isn’t
beautiful and isn’t a cry for attention. Schizophrenia is terrifying. Don’t
pretend to have hallucinations. I don’t fucking want them. Mental illness isn’t
romantic. So stop treating me that way. I’m not sure why I do that, but that
just how I am. Just stop acting like you know everything.
-Chapter 4-
“Oh, Fuck It!”
The teenagers
always say “Young, Wild, and Free” well I’m “Young, Sad, and Depressed”.
Depression stole my Education, it
stole all my Friends, My Motivation, My Dreams, My Future¸ My Life, Me.
-Chapter 5-
“So Sorry”