trigger warning: lots of anxiety, desire to escape
i’m so scared that this is the moment i realize it’s a dream & start falling. i’m so so scared that this is the moment it all sort of shatters in front of me. & i’m just sort of standing here, and my hands are shaking, and there are tears dribbling off my cheeks like the beginning of a waterfall, and i swear the heat is melting me. & i can’t think. & i can’t do this. & i can’t breath. & i’m scared i’ll hurt you all the time. & there’s a scene in the harry potter movies where harry’s eyes kinda roll back in his head, because voldemort has taken over, and that’s how i feel all the time. like someone else is holding my hands. some monster, something you’ve never met. & i’m so scared, because it’s complicated and it’s messy & the darkness is slow as it creeps in like a cancer and begins to spread. & i think i did something wrong, but i don’t know what, and the anxiety is messy all around me leaves the world in shattered pieces. & if i ever hurt you, please let me know, because i don’t want to be trapped, & i don’t want to be caged inside myself about to let go. & i’m just whispering over & over to myself expecto patronum because it makes me feel strong. & powerful. like the version of myself i am when i’m with you is strong enough to outlast all the rest, and the thing i don’t want you to know if that i’m not always kind and i’m not always perfect and deep down i am a good person but not if the hurt you have inflicted on me is buried so deep into my skin it’s hard to understand, let alone deal with. my schedule is so full it could explode in front of me, and then the dementor would come and suck out my soul, and then there’d be nothing left but a body. the realization that i can make mistakes is a black hole, sucking and never stopping inside me. and it’s hard to explain, because mental illness is smeared ink all across my history, but let me try: let me tell you how every mistake has been the place they strike. let me tell you how every mistake has become a crippling scar, an injury. let me tell you that i’ve never really been a kid. and i’ve never really been safe inside my own skin. and every flaw is where the panic and the pain and the anger seeps in, and i’ve been sealing up holes and leaky pieces for eons now and i don’t know what i’m doing, but it’s hard to breathe and can my scraps of self-compassion just be enough to get me through the night and can i just stop burning and finally get to the part where i’m not caged in my own skin & i rise? can i get past the pain and run through the finish line?
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