carry that weight a long time..
There it is again. The everlasting weight on my chest. Sometimes I can pinpoint what is causing it. Other times I’m at a loss for what causes the difficultly breathing, the slow motion feeling of my body and the world around me. I loath not knowing what is hurting me. It’s an empty feeling; lonely feeling. I feel alone and am desperate to feel the opposite. I’m on the right track with my life, so what the hell is the problem. I’m going for a degree for something I’m passionate about and yet right now I could drop it off of my to do list and be okay. What is that? How could I have a sense of carelessness for something so important to me at the same time.
I want a magic wand to make this go away. I’m sick of actually thinking I would rather have a physical disease; wishing for it at times. Anything besides my head fucking with me. It’s a terrible thing to wish because I know how many suffer because of other diseases, but its so cruel to have your own mind fighting against you at all times. It’s like my brain belongs to someone else, something else. Something else that wants me to fail, to surrender. I apologize for the cruelty of myself to wish such horrendous things. My only explanation is to have physical evidence of a battle is easier to take in than something invisible beating you down. If only I had visible scars for my pain, then I could be reminded that it’s real.