My Fucking Mess Of A Life

Who I've become.

I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to move today. My antidepressants weren't doing their job. I was planning on spending the whole day in a wonderful warm cacoon of blankets, the only thing able to get me in here being my own mind, but I was starting to get used to that. The voice in my head. Not the usual one that tries to get me to talk to my therapist, the one who wants help. No, this is a different voice. It's like the something that was preventing me from talking before had a voice. It told me things that made me want to cover my ears but that never worked. It was on the inside. I could never block it out myself. That's why I planned on watching and reading all day. Distracting myself so it never got a chance to speak. I thought about taking a nap, seeing as I hadn't slept all night. I don't like sleep very much anymore. I never sleep like I used to, all the way through the night with dreams being few and far in between. Now I have a hard time getting to sleep as the something always starts up if I'm not doing anything. I can't seem to stay asleep either. I wake up at ungodly hours in the morning, thinking I can get up, only to check my phone and see that it's four am. I close my eyes and force myself back into a light, un-energizing sleep. This will happen every hour or less until I decide it's finally a normal time to be awake. Sometimes I'll force myself to go back to sleep past normal time just to put off being awake. I never wake up feeling rested, despite the fact that I was up so early. I'm always tired and surprisingly, when I stayed up all night, I wasn't anymore tired than I usually was. I wasn't falling asleep on my feet the way I used to when I pulled all nighters. I was looking forward to nothing all day, when my mom texted me saying she left me a list of stuff to do. I could feel myself starting to panic. I didn't want to. I couldn't. I had no choice. I got up and immediately felt worse. Maybe it was having been lying down for so long, maybe it was the knowledge that I wasn't just up for the bathroom or water. I went down stairs and read the list. It was fairly easy. Six things. I did the first two quickly and then moved onto the third. Counters. That should have taken a small amount of time but it didn't. I had put on music but it wasn't helping anymore. At first it did, but for some reason, it stopped working. The something started making itself known. I had to do something. I started cleaning more thoroughly than I needed to. I was only supposed to clear off the counters and wipe them down. Instead, I picked up every little thing that was supposed to be on the counters and cleaned those too. I cleaned the straw holder, the trivets, the bread basket, everything. I wiped down the salt and pepper shakers and refilled them. I scrubbed the sink with a steel wool pad. I couldn't stop. There were a few times when I almost broke. I felt tears start to form in my eyes and a sob building in my throat. I stopped long enough to calm down and continued cleaning. I went through this process many times. I finally finished and went to do the next thing on the list when my mom texted, asking if I had finished the list. I was halfway through and the last three were very easy, so I responded with almost and sent a picture of the list with three things crossed off. I was quite proud of myself. Whenever my mom left me a list, I never actually did it. I always came up with an excuse. I was feeling something positive with out it being from a video or book for once. That positive feeling was crushed, however, when my mom sent back that "that's not almost for you". It wasn't a very sinister message. Not at all, but because I was so fragile at the moment, the something grabbed onto that and twisted it out so that it seemed like the worst thing in the world. I shoved it to the side just so I could get the task I had just started over with. Once I had, I sat on the couch and lost it. It was like a damn had been broken and every bad thought crashed through my mind at once. Along with the thoughts came tears. So many tears. I couldn't have made them stop even if I tried. As the tears came, though, my breathing left. I started taking short,  quick gasps of air, only to release them a half a second later, much too soon. I was hyperventilating. The only thing running through my mind beside all the thoughts was air and Nomi. My sister. I needed my big sister who was in a different country. I couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone though. Soon I felt my throat start to constrict and I felt like I was going to puke. I ran out the back door and started heaving. There was nothing in my stomach, though, so it was all the more painful. At some point, my breathing had evened out enough for my stomach to stop flipping. I stood outside for a few minutes just shaking. When I went back inside I called my sister. I needed my big sister to help me. I saw that it was almost five, meaning it would be eleven where ever she was. I prayed that she was awake. When her happy voice answered the phone, I instantly felt myself relax a bit more. I told her what was wrong and eventually I calmed down after talking to her for a bit. When we hung up, I went to look in the mirror. I was scary to look at. My eyes were bloodshot and my face was red. Any parts that weren't red were paler than usual, almost white. My hair was a mess from me gripping it and pulling. I finally realized. I had a panic attack. It was worse than anything I've ever gone through. I couldn't control anything. I was terrified and I couldn't escape the words in my head. Worthless. Lazy. Fat. Ugly. Pathetic. Not good enough. Stupid. A burden. Insane. A wimp. I couldn't keep track. I never wanted that to happen again but I knew it probably would. My life never got better, only worse. I thought about my life so far. I was a happy kid. As I got older, I got crazier and things got worse. Eventually my craziness switched from the outside to the inside. I wasn't getting into fights and running around. Instead I was saying the wrong things and disappointing people. I stared at myself in the mirror. I took it all in. This is who I am. This is who I've become. I'm not happy with it and I don't know how to change that. I hate who I've become.

3/29/17

A/n: I'm tired.