The Darkest of Days

I can feel it, like black ink slowly seeping into my brain. Soaking in and making itself at home. I feel it dripping through my body, spreading throughout my veins to each and every fingertip. Holding my eyes open is difficult, everything is heavy. My body is jittery and shaking on the inside, but I am so, so tired. I smile and laugh, nodding my head at whatever was said a moment ago. I missed it completely but everyone else thought it was funny, so I join in hoping that that’s the right thing to do. I feel like a shell of myself on days like this. The outside me, the shell is there to wave good morning and she moves around like a normal, functioning human being. Then there is me on the inside. Not connected to anything on the outside, just there, curled up and wondering when it will be time to sleep. I’m just there protected by my shell. I rattle around on the inside, vibrating out of control, itching to get out. I can’t really hear much of what happens on the outside, but I try really hard to process and respond accordingly anyway.

I am at max capacity.

My body is constantly on edge. Ever go hiking? There’s that feeling of standing up on a cliff and you’re scared to inch near the edge just in case you happen to lose your balance? Your whole body feels that tension, that tingling sensation. There is that adrenaline buzzing in your body. I feel like I took the steps…in the dark and I have no idea where the edge is anymore.

There is no beauty and there is no excitement, just dark, dark adrenaline. My toes are already off the edge, only touching thin air. I am grounded by my heels, staring off into an abyss, wondering what comes with the next step. I feel like I have no room to be moved. One tiny, little push and I will likely fall. There is nothing to hold onto and no where to go but down. I try so very hard to maintain my balance and look like I am in control. I try to keep my shell presentable and enthusiastic to maintain the charade. I will hold my arms out and yell happily into the dark air, but I am scared.

I am so scared.

The smallest thing sends tears down my cheeks and my insides twist in an agonizing way.

I want to beg for help, but I don’t know how.

So instead, I lash out and I claw at myself as if that will give me something tangible to hold onto because what else is there. Those who listen are angry and they have the right to be, I’m letting all my ugliness spill into their world. So, they turn away and as they go their shoulder brushes me and down, I go.

It is my own fault and I deserve to fall. When I am full of this dark energy. I bring it out hoping that your light will shed onto me, but it seems that darkness spreads so easily. Maybe, I don’t deserve the help when I have done so badly at taking care of myself.

So down I go, crashing to the ground where I will curl up and stay for a while. My shell is cracked, and it needs time to heal so I lay there. I will stay until I am strong enough to try again. Until I convince myself that I deserve to stand. I do…don’t I? I at least deserve to stand back up…right?