I don’t want to be bothered but I want to be asked.
I don’t want to be seen, but I want to show the world.
I don’t want anyone to know, but I want to tell everyone
that I am not okay.
That I feel like breaking down.
Don’t ask me why because I couldn’t tell you.
Because I don’t know.
Something has come over me.
It’s just one of those days,
where you feel overwhelmed. Too overwhelmed to focus.
Too overwhelmed that everything makes you want to cry.
Making you feel extra emotional and irritable.
Pushing people away but I don’t mean it.
Too strong of a front to reach out.
I just want to lay in bed and sleep.
But not being able to because your mind is racing with all the things you have to do.
It tells you that you are unworthy.
That you are a piece of shit.
That there are people who are going through so much than you.
That I don’t deserve to feel this way.
That I am not deserving.
That I feel and think like this, I am just being spoiled.
I want to be validated, but my own self is invalidating my feelings.
It only makes me feel worse.
It’s a vicious cycle.
I want help.
I want to curl up into a ball. Into a fetal position.
Let me be a child again.
Let me redo my life and hope that it turns out better than this.
Hope that if this happens again in the future, I don’t feel this way.
That I am stronger.
To have more strength.
I am disconnected with my mind and my emotions. Nothing is working together, but working together to make me the way I am.
I disconnect with my ability to empathize.
Don’t reach out to me.
I don’t know what to do.
There is nothing for me to stress out about but I stress.
Anxious for the stress that is about to come.
I feel numb. I have a shell, but inside, I am vacant.
I am just a shell.
Everything left me to find something else. To find someone else.
I am alone, but not alone.
I have a choice, but not enough and too many.
So much things I need to get done.
I need to get everything done before I start stressing out and under pressure.
But I am already stressing. How do I stop.
How do I stop feeling anxious.
Anxiety is the quicksand I am stuck it.
The more I struggle, but more it takes over.
But I’m not ready to give up. I should let go in hopes of being released, but I can’t.
I should relax and wait for help, but I don’t want to.
I don’t want to admit that I need help.
Go away, please.
I am weak, but I am strong.
I can save myself.
But it’s no use.
I just keep struggling and I suffocate.
Maybe tomorrow will be different.