The mind of a teenage fuck up

Anxiety

All my life I've struggled with an anxiety disorder. To anyone who has the pleasure of not dealing with anxiety issues, I'll describe it like this. Imagine there's a man constantly on your back saying awful things about how much of a failure you are or how much everyone hates you. Some days it's just a whisper in the back of your mind, but other days it's a scream so loud that you can't hear anything else. When I was young it was so bad that I couldn't even talk to anyone except my mom and dad, and wouldn't leave the house without crying. My parents chalked it up to normal juvenile shy-ness, and thought I needed an outlet to help me break out of my shell. So they signed me up for a ton of activities, like ballet,gymnastics, and cheerleading, that would force me to preform in front of a crowd. Eventually I learned to cope with performing in front of a crowd. I'd and plaster on a fake smile and become somebody else. It wasn't me up there performing it was another girl. A girl who was strong, brave, and beautiful. Though this worked with my performances it didn't change how I felt when I was alone. The darkness that would creep up and consume me at night, so strong that I would have anxiety attacks every night. Anxiety attacks are probably the most terrifying thing in the world. Imagine being in a completely dark small square room, and all you can hear is that damn guy on your back. This time he's screaming, screaming so loud that nothing anyone says comes through it's all him. Saying shit about how you're a failure, how no one likes you, how you'd be better off gone. And then all the walls start closing in, the room gets smaller and smaller, and he gets louder and louder, so loud you think you might go deaf. You're crying and screaming for him to stop but he won't, and you just want to die. So to cope I did the only thing that would make it all stop. I'd cut.