You had been independent for so long that you can't remember how to depend on someone else again. You had been contented with being alone, with the blades and the dark of the night to blanket over your shivering body and racing heart. You had been contented with the panic attacks and the anxiety creeping from the pit of your stomach, rushing through your throat -a familiar feeling; you're used to it.
You had been alone for so long that you can't remember how it feels to depend on someone else again. And then she came, and you forgot how to exist alone again.
And the blades were left alone somewhere above your dresser, possibly starting to get rusty. The night doesn't seem so dark, doesn't seem so cold and your heart had been at peace. The panic attacks are there, but less frequent. And the lump on your throat suddenly goes away when she talks.
The shivering doesn't go away when she laughs, but now, it felt good.
Your heart is racing fast, but now it doesn't hurt.
But then your fears would visit you every now and then. You aren't good enough, and you know she fucking deserves all the good in the world. You aren't enough. You aren't enough.
And you're torn between staying or leaving. You want to stay, so bad, so bad it actually pains you to even think about leaving. But then something inside you makes you want to leave. Because she's too good. She's too nice. And all you do is break nice things.
And you scroll through your journal and you realized that you stopped writing about the pain when you met her. That you stopped cutting when she came. That you stopped hurting when you knew her name. And it scares you to death.
Because you haven't been dependent for so long and now you're starting to feel that way again.
YOU ARE READING
anx·i·e·ty
Randomyou were six and you're never good enough. you do this wrong, you did that right -but not quite. you were six. and you're never good enough. you're thirteen and ain't smart enough. you can't pronounce faux pas properly. you cannot derive formulas...
