Fri, 12/23/2016 - 17:28 -- okoesel

and i have anxiety terrors, you know, the ones that have you shooting upright at two in the morning because


oh shit, you said something that maybe your friend thought was rude?


and how are you gonna apologize now, this happened a week ago, oh god, rethinking every interaction from a month back, where did i go wrong?


do they hate me?


no, they seemed fine yesterday, but was it fine before that?


did they already hate me, and are just grinning and bearing my presence ’til i figure it out and leave?


should i leave?




damn, my coffee mug is still in my backpack from this—no, yesterday—morning, and my lunch bag too, and dance clothes, and, and,




fuck, i have an essay due that i haven’t started, or just barely, or not done well enough, could do better, should, but can i?


or, most embarrassing


shitfuck, i didn’t do my snapchat streaks today, and i ignored fifteen text messages from someone i really shouldn't ignore


and it’s only most embarrassing because this is what breaks you


something so simple


so fucking easy


that you could have done in two minutes just a couple of hours ago,


but you were so stuck in your own goddamn head that you couldn't bother to reply


and that's gotta say something about your mental state, huh, that you were too fucked up to check your goddamn phone when your mom’s always yelling at you to put the goddamn thing away, anyway, and do the homework that


you know you’re not gonna do, that you've been putting off for five hours no, just wasting time doing so much nothing,


your grades are slipping again


you’re slipping again


fuck, not again, i can’t get like this again




well what good is it gonna do me now, it’s two in the goddamn morning


save the crisis for the morning—later in the morning—where you fake being a functional person


fake being okay, at least for a while,


before someone asks if you're okay, and you just give that broken smile, the one that says


oh honey, you can't honestly think i’m doin’ alright


before you turn away and pointedly ignore the concerned looks they send to you, to the people around you


the ones who say are your friends but are they lying?


and you close your eyes,


no, not now,


can't deal with this right now


have a breakdown—yes, another one—later, you need sleep


but your heart is pounding and you’re wide awake so you lay there for what feels like an hour


but is really only ten minutes


for your heart to calm down again


and you to drift back



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