I’m confused with myself. I’m not afraid of the dark, but I can never sleep. I’m not afraid of heights, but I get nauseous whenever I look down from one. I’m not afraid of the water, but something just convinces me to not step foot in it. I don’t like social interaction, but I always end up talking to someone. I’m always too anxiety-filled to do something by myself- I have to have a sibling with me to prevent panic attacks. But I don’t know WHY. I’ve been told by my psychiatrists over and over again that I have anxiety and depression, but I just don’t understand. And the medications just make it worse. It’s like I’m climbing up a hill, but my legs keep giving out. And the only thing I can do to find food is let my stomach eat itself, and the only action I can preform is lying limp in the grass like an abandoned ragdoll. Like I’m always drowning in a demonic sea of emotions, and the water filling my lungs is the demons and voices that are almost too realistic. It’s like I’m in a dream- no- a nightmare, and reality is waiting for me to wake up from this treacherous coma. I get no sleep, so I walk outside to get fresh air. In the silence of the night, the voices only get louder, and I feel so convinced to the point where I just want to jump in front of a car passing by. They never seem to understand. I tell my mom, my siblings, my grandparents, my therapist... but they never understand. Because I DON’T. I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. You all act like it’s something easy to pass, and that it’s just a paper cut that’ll heal in a few hours. BUT NO! It’s more like when I cut my leg with an axe on accident while I was cutting wood. The pain is unbearable, but what can I do about it? I don’t want this to get a bunch of views or the pity of those who read it. I don’t need that. The only thing that’s needed are people that actually understand. Because there is nobody that will truly understand. Not even me.
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