the things I don't tell.

There is a lot that I don't tell people. Even the people that I'm closest to. I guess it's because I know that honestly, they don't want to hear it. If they really care about me, it will make them sad and a little, screaming part of me will always believe that telling too much about the side of me that is very, very dark will push them away. Because, who really wants an unstable friend? Someone you can't depend on to just be… normal? And if they don't care, it will just make them feel awkward. I can always tell.

But the people who care… they may tell me that they want me to tell them when something is going very, very wrong, but I don't tell them. How do you explain to someone that you spend an evening shaking, with your heart beating rapidly, and your brain feeling like it's ripping apart at the seams from a mixture of dull pain and haunting images, when you can't even explain why?

I spend so many of my moments worrying about other people, so how can anyone blame me when I don't want to inflict that brain-crippling worry on anyone else? I'd be lying, though, if I said that the reasons for me keeping in my unexplainable moments of panic is purely selfless. It's not, really. I'm terrified of letting people know that I have these moments, where my heart won't stop beating and I feel my chest constrict and everything feels empty and numb and painful all at the same time. I know that weakness is a part of being human, and that isn't the point. My worry is that someday, people will start to realize that I'm more trouble than I'm worth, and leave. I'm afraid that someday, everyone will realize that they're better off without me and just… leave. And I won't have these amazing people in my life anymore. They'll just be gone, and I'll be alone.

A logical part of me knows that I'll wake up tomorrow and have very little memory of this empty and yet aching feeling in my chest. I'll wake up to my alarm at 5:45, groan, kiss my dog, and get into the shower. I'll put in my hair mousse and the whole bathroom will smell good and I'll adjust my sweater and make funny faces in the mirror. I'll eat some incredibly non-breakfast-food breakfast and watch whatever episode of South Park I'm on on Netflix Instant Play. I'll go to school and see my friends and play Angry Birds in math and listen to music that makes me smile and I'll probably have a good day. But right now, even though I know that nothing is wrong and that tomorrow holds unknown promise, I can't stop my body from twitching and shaking and sinking.

I guess the point of this wasn't to try to open up to more people about my heart-stuttering anxiety or to try and get my feelings off of my chest. I guess, to be honest, the real reason for this was because twenty minutes ago, I was laying in bed, trying so many different things to ease my mind, and none of them were working. I tried to play Fastball 2, but it got me feeling even more panic-y , and then I started to read, but the content of the book I was reading completely collided with some of the things my brain was (unnecessarily) freaking out about, and so I wrote this. As a cure for my unrelenting mind.

I think it helped. And I'm really sorry if this post made anyone feel uncomfortable, it's just that Nora has been begging me to blog for the longest time, and I decided to try and kill two birds with one stone. And I really do think it helped.