Rough Times

Lately, I've been going through rough times that have to do with life itself. Read, comment... Hope you like it.
Just so you know, this is not about any form of person.

Chapter 1

Depressing... I Know :'(

Feelings don’t seem that fragile at first, they are just happy, just sad. But really, one wrong movement can ruin you, make all of your feelings collide, creating one that’s a mystery. A mystery left unsolved, never to be claimed as angry or anxious. It’s something more- some people don’t understand it. You feel alone when this mystery feeling washes over you, because you think, no one in the world knows how I feel.

People may question me, how do you feel? But, I can’t answer. When you play with my feelings, as if I am a worthless stuffed animal from a claw machine, you may not realize how painful it is for me. I feel lost, hopeless, like I can’t go on. When you think that it is a joke, one long forgotten and meaningless to you, it is still scarred on my mind, burning and aching.

The tears flow from my eyes like a quiet river, trying to move out of it’s boundaries. But it can’t.
The words fly from my mouth like a bird, dying to be free. But they never will be.
The memories float around in the back of my mind like a piece of driftwood in the ocean, trying to float to shore. But it never will.

You’re overreacting, you said to me. But, you see, I am not. I’m not even close to it. I want this all to be behind me... I do not need extra anxiety. When I think about what is causing my anxiety, I feel trapped. I think, just let me lay down, and pass away slowly. I feel that there is no point to being on this Earth if nowhere I go is safe. Safe from... this. On every inch of this planet, I cannot escape the feelings taking over my whole body. They make me tremble... everything I know is gone, except for anxiety, which is sitting there in the middle of me, taking control, making me do things I don’t want to do.

Stop, I tell myself. This isn’t really happening. It’s all in my head - I’m fine. But the thing is, I can’t pretend it’s not happening. The problem will one hundred percent not go away. If it did, where would it go? Would it go to the back of my mind, just to come out again another day? Would it float on down to the bottom of my soul, just sitting there stirring around? That does not make it gone. I need to work through it, and trust me, I’m trying. I talk about it, write about it, and I’m even going to do what only desperate people do. That is, to take the medication. How will that effect my life? I’m stubborn, and everyone knows that. It might work. I may be cured forever, and be as bright as the sun. But my stubbornness is not helping. I might convince myself the medication is not helping. Then what? Will I be like this forever? Sad and alone... nothing will fix this. That’s what I feel. That’s what I think. That’s what I know.

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