Day Seven: I’m breaking down

I feel sad.
I have the urge to run.
To get away, far far away.
I need to get away.
I feel frustrated.
I feel sad.
I feel trapped.
Trapped in my own mind, criticisms, plans and anxiety.

I want to break down and cry.
I want to curl up into a ball and cry with the lights off.
I want to lie down on the ground and breathe.
I just want to breathe. But I can’t. Not without an audience.

I feel that all my efforts are wasted.
Nothing seems to be falling into place.
Just when I thought I was putting the puzzle pieces together, and the picture was coming together, some of the pieces were turned backwards.
And now when I flip them onto the right side, they no longer fit and I’m back to the start.
I feel hopeless.

I’m not really sure what I’m doing.
Maybe I’m just overwhelmed and stressed out but all I know is that I can’t do this no more.
My life is a story that keeps dragging on and on.
The kind of story that no one wants to read.
You hope for it to end and for something new and exiting to happen.
For a new plot to happen.
For a new event to happen.
For a new character to come along.
But nothing.
You want to move onto the next chapter, but you can’t.
You’re just dragging out feet across the pages.

You lose all hope.
You lose all senses of who you are.
And you’re bare.
I want to believe that there is a reason for everything.
That there is a reason for feeling like this.
But I can’t justify it.
Objectively, I have a great life.
Yes, my father is out of the picture and yes, my brother is an annoying piece of life.
But I have great friends.
An ever hardworking mother.
A great boyfriend.
My academics ain’t so bad.
I’m breathing.
I’m healthy. I’m not fat. I’m somewhat fit.
I have acne-prone skin, but nothing compared to what some people have to deal with.
I don’t worry about money or food or clothes or any necessities.
I have more than enough.
I can buy what I want.
I can have what I need.
But subjectively, they mean nothing. They mean nothing if it means feeling like this.
They say depression affects anyone and whoever.
But I don’t want to say I am having depressive symptoms because it’s a serious mental health issue and I don’t want to lighten it.
I feel anxious about everything. Like, everything is going wrong and will continue to go wrong.
But I don’t want to say that I have a generalized anxiety disorder because, it too, is a serious issue that shouldn’t be taken lightly.

I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know why I feel. I don’t know who I am.
I feel trapped in my own body.
I want to be elsewhere. Anywhere but here. But here is all that I can be.
I watch life pass me by.
I watch people live their lives.
I support other people but don’t support myself.
People say “just open up and let me in” but I can’t.
It’s not that I don’t want to, I don’t know how.
I don’t know what to open up about.
I want to talk about it, but I don’t know what to talk about.
And I don’t want to cry.
I don’t want to be weak, although I always tell others that tears aren’t signs of weakness but of strength.
I’m not strong enough.

Sometimes, I feel emotions when things happen and I react.
I can hear it in my voice.
I can feel it within me, but my face? It’s blank. I’m not quite sure why.

I just want to know.
I refuse help because I want to make out of this by myself.
I want to be able to make it out alone.
I don’t want to depend on people and feel broken when I lose that dependency.
This is why I am pro-independence at all times.

How am I to help others when I am like this.


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