This Is Exactly What My Anxiety Feels Like

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To the world, I’m just another face in the crowd. One that is focused on herself and nothing else; self-conceited. They think I only care about how I look, how I walk and how I talk. They think that all I care about is how to look good on the outside. They think that I don’t give a damn. I put on my plugs to drown out the noise every time I step outside and I put on my darkest pair of sunglasses to make the world look a little less bright in my eyes.

And here’s what happens…

A million thoughts run through my mind, from the things I’ve said five years ago, down to the things I did five minutes ago. It feels like there is a series of light inside my head, constantly flaring up from the moment I get off my bed. Every light is equivalent to a memory. When one of them burns out, another one lights up. And I dwell on it for longer than I want to. They don’t stop.

I feel a different kind of weight every time I put one foot in front of the other. It’s like I have invisible shackles for each of my ankles. But no matter how hard it is to move, I do whatever it takes to get even one inch further from where I started. Sometimes, I might crawl, other times I might fall, but I’m always thinking that it’s better than doing nothing at all.

I’ve been called arrogant and a snob way too many times for sitting all by myself, for not talking too much, for not saying what’s on my mind. And because sometimes it takes a really long time for me to respond or look people in the eye. They don’t want to hang on to my every word, but what they don’t know is that I’m really just overwhelmed and that makes it really hard for me to find the words. In case I am lucky enough to find the words, for some reasons, people interpret it the other way around. Explaining it would just be like running around a maze with a tight blindfold and bound arms.

There are days when I’d wake up and feel like the entire world’s on my shoulder. I just care way too much about everything until I can’t bear it any longer. That’s when my hands start to shake, and that’s when my mind starts to break.

That’s why I isolate myself.

That’s why I stare blankly in space.

That’s why I don’t say a word.

I put on my plugs. I listen to music to drown out the noise inside my own head telling me I’m not good enough and that it would be better to just stay in bed. I put on my darkest pair of sunglasses so I won’t be scared of what lies ahead. I want to hide my tired eyes that cried the whole night. And if it’s possible, I just want to be out of everyone’s sight.

Then, here comes the night.

I can finally lay down and have enough of that fight or flight. But just before my thoughts fade in the dark, something tells me that another cycle is about to start.