the things i try my hardest to hide but here it is anyway

s o m e o n e h e l p m e

I'm not much like myself anymore.

It feels like I'm the same old me. Constantly overthinking, being ecstatically happy one second and staring at the wall contemplating my worth the next.

Everything feels the same but I know, I just know, things are different. I'm still falling asleep with my thoughts stranded deep, living every day with a sharp pain settling in my chest, like I always have these past few years.

But I feel like I'm losing myself. I'm terrified of the day, that one day... that I'll fucking lose it . Lose my sense of purpose, lose my will to live. I'd be sick. No, not mentally sick. I'd be sick of all the pain. Sick of breathing, sick of living.

I've always thought that it would get better, that there's light at the end of the tunnel. But the tunnel's darker than my thoughts and I don't think I can handle it.

I've noticed that the things that unravel a real, actual smile on my face... always ceases to fade away. Broken promises linger around me like how the things I would never say, do around my lips.

The constant feeling of worthlessness surrounds me just like the storm that surrounds my head all the fucking time. The constant anxiety, constant worry about what people think of me haunts me, when in all honesty I shouldn't give a fuck about it.

Even walking down the street feels like going to war. Going to war with the illness in my head saying, "You are not like the others. Can't you see? Everyone is looking at you and seeing an ugly, worthless piece of shit that only knows how to complain when you have the whole world in front of you."

But a smile always manages to hover above my lips every day, and a single laugh always escapes even if a fake smile is plastered across my face. I sometimes feel like I'm on top of the world and that I actually, finally have friends and nothing could go wrong. But all this changes when I'm alone.

Small matters become bigger and bigger up to the point they would consume me. They become inconvenient 3 am thoughts, nudging at me, telling me to stay awake.

It feels like, day by day, I think I'm getting better. But the patches of tears on my pillow every night say otherwise. I want to move on. I want to be someone who others would think highly of. But how could other people love me, if I absolutely fucking despise myself?

The way I constantly push away the people who have shown even the slightest bit of concern. When I was putting up walls and they bothered to at least try to knock them down. But I don't let them.

The way I act as if everything's okay when I know it's not. I keep telling myself, "You're a fucking cry baby, suck it up." and end up fucking bawling that night because I couldn't stand it anymore.

The way I want to get better, but I do absolutely nothing. I would just sit down, stare at the wall and think, "What if I'd done things differently?" I keep making empty promises to myself that I know I can't keep.

It digusts me. It's my fault I'm like this, but I can't seem to fucking change anything.

I'm losing a piece of myself day by day. And it hurts, it really fucking hurts.

But I'll keep these feelings to myself so I don't lose anybody.

I've already lost what I once was.