Too much…it is too much. The world is peaceful; silver moonlight spilling through the curtains of my quaint bedroom. The neighborhood is fast asleep apart from the stray cats prowling the streets. My body and soul, however, are painfully awake. Electricity creeps down my arms and into my fingertips as if my heart replaced my blood with battery acid. My chest is heavy as bombs explode deep inside its cavity. My stomach has shriveled, and I can not help but picture it looking like a raisin, even with the chaos that is transpiring from within. It is too overwhelming, I am feeling too much. Fear, pain, panic, anticipation, dread, and hopelessness are all at the surface. Below it is the jealousy I feel for those who are “normal.” Anger towards my family for the feeling of responsibility I have to live for them – to get better for them – Why can’t I be selfish? Why must I keep fighting? The sadness knowing I can not just end this misery because it would only hurt them. Regret for the life I missed out on, and confusion towards a God who has seemingly abandoned me.
My breathing is rapid
I am spiraling
out of control
My soul is trying to claw it’s way out of this good for nothing body. It’s hands shredding apart my insides, ripping my intestines, snapping my ribcage, squeezing my heart as blood oozes in-between it’s fingers.
Why has my body trapped me inside this torturous inferno?
I am free falling into a pit of darkness as fire burns within me.
My throat contracts as a scream threatens to break loose. I want to scream, maybe it will extinguish this fire if only a little. My brain struggles to differentiate which direction is up and which is down. It doesn’t know how to push the air from my lungs to my mouth.
I fall deeper and faster as the electricity continues to flow through my veins.
It dominates every fiber of my being, paralyzing me on the outside and shattering me on the inside.
My body hits the bottom of the pit. The wind is knocked out of me, my head searing with pain. The anxiety slowly starts to seep out of my body and pools around me. It’s a dark sticky ink. I’m left numb. I open my eyes to see a dim light miles above me and rugged stone walls surrounding me. I roll to my side and pull my knees to my chest. Sleep takes over and tears fall down my cheeks, knowing that when I wake up, I will be back in my bed only to face this horror again. I will see you again soon, Pit of Sorrows.
This is what my anxiety feels like. I am very lucky I haven’t had to visit the Pit of Sorrows recently. I remember these trips vividly. How desperate my soul was to escape from the coffin that was my body. Her nails were ripped and bloody as she tried to dig through my skin and bones. I find myself fearful of the future at times. Terrified of that pit, and knowing there is a high chance we will come face to face again. I know I am in a much better place, that breathing softens the fall, and the visit would be brief, but there are far too many skeletons and spiderwebs down there for my taste.
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