this is what anxiety feels like

How are you not tired of this? The blood rushing to your brain whenever you notice the slightest change in the atmosphere, the fear of the unknown that overtakes your conscience when you close your eyes. The need to prepare yourself for the worst outcome and feeling unprepared at the same time. The heavy sigh that you let out in order to feel some sort of control.

That’s what anxiety feels like.

It’s recognising that you’re stuck in your old ways but can’t seem to do anything about it. It’s victimising yourself over and over again because you’re afraid of change. It’s the romanticising of what could have been. It’s the heaviness in your chest when you choose to walk away from something. So you put on your shiniest outfit and continue to dance the night away. Because that’s what you’re good at.

You’re good at being the life of the party. So you show your dolled up face at every scene, hoping that the audience will like it. Do they? Do you know that they talk behind your back? That your performance was not up to their expectations? Of course, you do. But you don’t show them the bleeding scars that they leave you with. No, you pack up your bags and leave for the next show. Because that’s what you’re good at.

No one ever knows how you truly feel because you never feel. You don’t show. You stop yourself from sharing for the sake of not oversharing. You don’t bring them home. You take them around to your favourite restaurants, tell them your craziest dreams, show them your favourite films but never bring them home. Because you’re afraid of what might happen. What happens when they finally see how ugly of a mess you are? Surely they’ll run away. Then you’ll have to deal with the possibility of random strangers knowing your deepest darkest secrets. Soon enough you feel suffocated because now everyone knows you. It’s all just too much. So you never let someone close enough to see you.

Oh, but how you long to bare your soul to someone as broken as you. To sit on the floor, naked and just let everything out. Let out that breath that you’ve been holding as soon as you notice a side-eye glance from a random stranger. Release that memory of your biggest fall on the stage. Take off that overstretched jeans that everyone just loves on you. Finally accepting yourself as you are.

Ah! There you go again. Romanticising things that are out of your control. And now you’re criticizing your imagination. Second-guessing and over-analyzing everything. You can never win with yourself. You’re always at war with who you are, not realising that you are two sides of the same coin. Rejecting the acceptance that they give you and happily accepting the rejection that you give yourself. How are you not tired of this?