DISCLAIMER: Hiya guys… So this post is a little different. If you’ve perused my whole blog, read a certain post pertaining to this topic, or are close to me in the real world, you have a brief idea of how anxious of a person I am or you kind of know how genuinely scary my anxiety attacks can be.you’ll kind of understand this. I typed this post out last night in the midst of a severe panic episode. I’ve read through it, and I’ve decided to keep it because its’s authentic and the internet is a place where not a lot is taboo. I realize some of what’s written below doesn’t make sense…sorry. And to whom it may be concerning (probably no one), I didn’t black out. I was entirely safe and there were several people capable of helping me nearby. Things discussed below are my norm. I’ve almost never attempted to put it into words though, and honestly the memory is so milky I don’t remember my logic of doing it, so this is a first.
~Comment if you know what the title of this post symbolizes.
Sometimes my hands shake. And my heart feels like a guilty child. Sometimes I can’t think straight. In this moment I’m having an anxiety attack. I feel like this could be a black-out. Sometimes I panic so severely, that my mind literally takes my physical self places I don’t remember. If I were to let myself go right now, I’d probably wake up in a couple hours and not remember what happened. No worries though, this is normal.
I don’t know why this is happening right now. Nothing bad happened; today was pretty relaxed
Actually I think it was a song
I can listen to a song and a two-word phrase can dust off memories that I don’t want to see, or feel.
What memory this time, though? I don’t know.
I don’t think there is one..I just feel
I know I have a severe panic disorder and I know I have Anankastic Personality Disorder
It literally feels like one of the halves of me is just fighting to leave. I have a grip on my own hand..but she’s tugging and begging for me to just let go, the other half will slip in place…I’ll black out, and life will be different tomorrow.
It’s episodes like these where 75% of my poems are written.
Do bruises make me a victim or a hero?
A free spirit or a sinner?
Black, blue, or emotional stains
They’re all the same.
5 things I can see
4 I can hear
3 I can feel
2 I can smell
1 I can taste
The hair dye on my hands, the tipped over kitchen chair, there’s 2 pillows at the left end of the couch and 1 at the right (the one on the right is identical to one of the 2 on the left), the key hanger is crooked, the window is divided into 25 small squares
Congratulations by Post Malone, whoever’s in the bedroom on my right is listening to This Could be Us by Rae Sremmurd, the air conditioner, she just laughed
My fingertips feel like they have little heartbeats, when the fan swivels this way my hair brushes my eyebrow, my feet are cold
It just smells like..this house. The girl I was with earlier had this weird lotion kit that she found online, she made a lotion that smelled like oranges and birthday cake; I guess I can smell that if I really focus
Blueberries, I ate those for dinner.