Muted

Cold tears, shivers down my spine, uncontrollable shaking, silent screams.

These are my symptoms.

I forget how to breathe and how to live. I become reliant on one person because I know they're my drug. They're my safe zone, my home. The slight whispers in your voice remind me that I'm not alone and that I'm stronger than those voices in my head.

But often times, I lose and they win.

My vision becomes cloudy, foggy, muted and lonely. In this moment, I'm not laying in bed but rather inside the ground buried alive. Pressure hits me like an 18 wheeler passing through a 80 mph highway. In a moment like this, I desperately reach for help, but get no one. I reach out a hand and get a high five, but nothing reassuring about it.

Overcome and overwhelmed, my anxiety blooms like a sunflower on a warm summer day. The golden shade reminds me that better days are ahead but am I doing them alone?

Better days are ahead but what happens when they just don't come? My relationship with a thing called space is non existent, each time I feel space is the answer, my body goes numb. All my doubt and worry wear me down like a sweater on a cold winter's day.

Tell me you don't feel sorry for me, I'll agree.

Please don't pretend like you have the audacity to tell me how to feel.

Oh wait, blood.

Blood dripping down, all sides now. Red, dark, so much. It's flowing like a river. I wipe away as much as I can and there it goes, longer and longer.

My chest feels heavy, my hands are now under me.

You feel like you have the audacity to tell me how to feel.

Well, my words to you would still be, I love you.

But do you?