Every day continues to become more confusing; hallucinations are more prominent and demanding, forcing my focus inward to the darkness just to stave off another panic attack. My heart starts to pound to the rhythm of war drums—so loud others can hear it—prepping my mind and body for the coming internal quarrel. A cold frost slowly slips over my body, and shivers run down my spine, making it impossible to focus on any task at hand. My emotions whiplash and tend to hurt people caught in the way of the sonic boom.
The overwhelming voice screams that I will never be good enough, that I will never amount to anything of worth. It is a terrifying Wilhelm scream that echoes in the chambers of my mind. The burden I feel I have become is nearly worse than the hallucinations and delusions themselves. Realizing that I have been burying these issues for so long and not getting the necessary help earlier—if I had only known the damage it would cause.
Keeping people at arm's length is a defense I have learned over the years—probably best for both parties involved. Attempting to avoid future “I’m sorrys,” putting people and relationships on back burners because I am unable to focus on the problems at hand. Recognizing the damage that I have potentially done to friends or family terrifies me.
“Quantity is quality when days are wearing thin”—words I have truly learned to live by, when every aspect of your daily established life is stripped away.
This timeline is not the one I signed a waiver for. The blatant violations of human rights and the pure, unrelenting insanity that our society is being confronted with is unsustainable. Like the last standing dominoes at the end of the line—standing quiet and alone. The daily incursions on people's rights—not just the laws laid by policy, but the laws of just not being a piece of shit. People that have an easy time swallowing everything that we are watching might have worse mental health issues than me.
I'm well past the point of giving up. If I gave up, then what was all the struggle for? I would have nothing to show or prove that I was able to make it through. The scars get covered with more scars and make skin so tough it can’t be damaged, making daily life without sensation or feeling. “I don’t think I could fix this if I found God. There's no drug in the world that could possibly wash this off.”
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