I know how it feels to lock yourself in a room because people are just too much to handle and moreover they never even understand. I know how it feels to be afraid of your own god damn heartbeat, the raging sound of which unsettles your mind by reminding it of the ticking of the clock. It sounds like the church bell right before the war breaks out, I tell you. I know how helpless you feel when your mind and your body lose coordination; when your lack of authority makes you miss every opportunity that comes your way. I know how it feels to have a mind that snaps really quick. I know how it feels to choke on your own goddamn breath, how suffocating and restricting your ribs feel, how you want to scream but then no voice comes out, I know how desperately you want to feel but then not even those cuts on your thighs makes you feel alive. I know how helpless you feel when in spite of different voices telling you to run, all you can do is keep standing in the middle of the road and watch that truck come towards you at full speed.
I know how it feels to keep sitting and watch your life pass by. I know that drinking warm salt water quickly can make you throw up, keeping raw onion under your armpit for whole night can give you fever, pressing the vein at your wrist at two finger distance from your palm can make you faint, milk and lemon is poisonous enough to give your food poisoning, overdose of painkillers is slow suicide, you won’t die instantly but probably in next 10 days, because it keeps weakening your organs slowly and slowly so that one fine day you go into total organ failure. If suicide is a shame then you can always meet an accident I mean you are anyway so careless, right? Because that’s why you have so many bruises and cut marks on your body.
I know this all because probably I have done it all, I have been there. I have been so closely related to anxiety that it is no longer a hidden invisible entity; it has manifested itself in me. It is a part of me. Escapism comes as naturally as breathing. It is what keeps me alive. But on some other level, it is what kills me. There are things I want to do, people I want to be and places that I want to go but then here I am, doing nothing, busy being a nobody stuck in the same hell from as long as a remember.
I do want to face life, I want to live it. I want to rise above life, to embrace it. Life is so restricting. Life doesn’t let me live. I want to die, just so that I can live. It’s hard to explain but I do love life, at least love the idea of it. My incapability to handle it shames me. I feel like I am always battling against myself to not lose this life to my own insanity. And it’s tiring as hell, but I can’t help it.
How do I tell the seas to not flood when the rain keeps hitting them hard over and over again, or the tree to not fall down when the termites keep feeding off the roots, or the stars to not turn into black holes when the core of them keeps burning out for you?
Each cell of my brain is a universe in its own, how do I stop them from expanding. Anxiety follows me like a shadow how do I stop myself from turning to the darkness, that is the only way I know to dodge it, deceive it, be free of it. It’s a reflex, not an action. How do I make you see that?
I am my worst enemy. At some point, you realize that the monsters are not under your bed but under your skin, not in the depths of the grave but in the depths of your mind, they don’t need any spells to come alive, your fears are like the thunder, they come loud and clear with no warning. At some point, you realize that in real life fairy tales, the witch, or the stepmother, is no one but the alter you. You need saving from yourself. And no price charming can ever do that, maybe because they are not meant to. You have to be your own savior.