h1

panic, and tears, and rambles, oh my

November 16, 2013

i am trying to hear a certain voice telling me to write it out. And even though i’m having trouble hearing it i’m trying to do it. And i’m trying to picture the words on the screen and the feel of the keys on my fingers as a replacement for the cool metal i want right now because i know that will help me breathe. And i know that will make my heart stop pounding and make the room stop spinning and closing in. And the can’t stop moving and don’t want to move feeling and the tears.

 

i don’t know why it came on tonight. i don’t know where it came from. Well i guess that isn’t true but i don’t know why it rushed in and blindsided me like this all at once. i’ve had a pretty shitty week in a lot of ways and there have been a lot of unexpected things and ups and downs. And i knew i was feeling it. But i didn’t know that it was going to just open its mouth and try to swallow me whole when i came upstairs from lunch.

 

i don’t even know why i’m writing this. i don’t want to write this. i know, i really know that it does help but all i want right now is either that razor blade or to just crawl under the covers and disappear. i try not to listen to all of the negative things that have been ingrained in me for so long but right now that’s all i can hear and it’s so loud.

 

Just write it out. Just write it out. i don’t know how to write what is in my head out. i don’t know how to turn these tears into words. i can’t seem to turn pain into sentences and paragraphs. And i can’t seem to find solace in any of the people i know i could talk to. i don’t want to pick up the phone like this. i don’t want to type a text message because i don’t even know what it would say. Let’s be real i don’t fucking want to ask for help. Partially because i don’t want to need help. Partially because people who see the reality of me tend to leave. And i don’t know if i could take that right now. i don’t want people to know that i’m a complete fucking nutjob. i want to put on a face and make snarky comments and pretend that i have it all together.

 

Which i suppose is a ridiculous thing to say as i write this somewhere that anyone can read. But that’s the truth and every time i go to hit publish i think about erasing everything. Sometimes i do. And then i try to remember that same voice that tells me to write it out telling me that maybe this might make some sort of difference not just to me and i do it. And i try to remember that this isn’t all i am. Even though it feels like it sometimes. And i try to remember the words of some of my favorite people telling me good things and silly things and just things i need to hear.

 

None of it is working right now but at least i’m trying. That has to count for something.

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