I’m done.

Done saying sorry when people tell me I’m a flake or no fun. Done apologizing for something that I cannot take away, no matter how many pills I take or how many doctors appointments I make.

I can’t be fully healed. Not with a cast or an iv. And I can’t be permanently fixed. Anxiety isn’t like breaking a bone, or fighting a cold. It’s not something you can undo. It’s not something that just goes away.

I’m tired of saying sorry to people’s ignorant assumptions.

All I ever do is say ‘I’m sorry’. I’m sorry for having to cancel because I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m sorry for being so quiet, because I was having a panic attack. I’m sorry for showing up late, my fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. I’m sorry for canceling again because I couldn’t get out of bed. I’m sorry for being a liability. I’m sorry for being too much to handle. I’m sorry for asking too many questions. I’m sorry for being a burden.

I always feel like I’m a burden.

Maybe anxiety makes me a bad friend. Maybe it makes me less of a kind and optimistic person. Maybe it makes me seem like I’m broken. Like I’m a fragile piece of paper, unable to carry my own weight.

Maybe anxiety makes me too sensitive for everyone around me. And maybe people don’t know how to react to my overcrowded thoughts that are crammed in my brain.

Maybe people don’t know how to respond to my exhales that don’t provide me with enough to anxiety. To my inhales that feel like sharp knives in my lungs. To my endless questions about anything and everything. To my trembling hands and sweat marked forehead.

I’m so sorry for making your life harder. For not being a picture perfect human being. For making your life more difficult and for making you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry for loading my anxiety onto your shoulders, for making your life not so seamless.

But you know what? I’m done feeling like a burden. Feeling like I am less of a great human being because of a chemical imbalance in my brain. And if you can’t handle my imperfect life, if you can’t handle that I have a mental illness, you can walk away. You can get out of my life.

You’d be doing me a favor.

Because I’m done apologizing for being human. I’m done apologizing for dealing with something that millions of people have to deal with. I’m done apologizing for being ‘too sensitive’. I’m done apologizing for having god forbid, feelings.

I’m a human being. Not a robot. Not someone who will ever be ‘chill’ or laid back. I’m not the type of person who will ever be a ‘go with the flow’ type of chick. I will always ask too many questions. I will always be terrified of planes. I will always have anxiety before dates. I will always have to probably take anti-anxiety meds. I will always bite my nails. I will always question my own self.

And if you can’t handle that? Then you don’t deserve a spot in my life, or a role in my play. You don’t deserve to know me. You don’t deserve to love me. You don’t deserve me at all.