I don’t want anyone to see me. I don’t want anyone to look me in the eyes in case they see what’s really going on. I don’t want people knowing what’s going on in my head. I don’t want pity or sympathy. I don’t want anyone to talk to me in case they hear the despair in my voice. I don’t want anyone around me in case they see how erratic I am.
I want to be free. I hate my mind. It cripples me with doubt and fear. It wounds me with shallow feelings. It makes me feel I’m going insane. All for no reason. My life isn’t perfect but it sure isn’t horrendous. My mind makes me see things that aren’t there. It makes me agonise over situations that aren’t even real.
Most of all, I hate my heart. I hate it for beating in the wrong way. I hate it for making me feel things I don’t want to. I know it’s my heart and not my mind. My chest feels broken. There is a hole inside me that I don’t know how to feel. I hate my heart because it blinds me. I’m not in love. Don’t mistake this for a soppy love depression. It feels hollow. The only thing that touches it is disappointment. Anger. Fear. Mostly disappointment. In other people but mostly, undoubtably in myself. Happiness is half hearted and gone too soon.
I am drowning in myself and I don’t know how to stop.