I can't I can't I just can't.
I'm here sitting at home with tears in my eyes and cheeks burning bright. Unable to go to school because the demons that lie deep within the core of my brain bring wave after wave of anxiety on end. Being yelled at, being screamed at, being told to go to school even if teh nasue and the headaches and the numbness still linger. Anxiety, a silent killer. The orchestra that's been playing music for years upon years, treating my ears.
Like a puppet master, it attaches strings to my body, planning out my movements and making me act out.
So I'm sitting here, on the couch, with wrists afloat a scarlet river, thinking. How did I get to this point?
I've always been a timid child. Shy. But never depressed, never plagued with horror. Poland was a safe space, by the ever green forests living in solitude at my grandparents home. Among many, many cats, many, many dogs and even more hamsters. It was a safe place, heaven.
When we moved to England, it was OK until around year five primary school. That's when teh anxiety started, the horrors and plagues. But in secondary school, I tried to kill myself, betrayed by a friend full of lies. But I've just been drifting in a small boat, made of shabby timber alight with a single dim lantern, drifting across the pitch black waters of the ocean. Alone.
That loneliness is a barrier, a shield.
But the boat slowly starts to fill with water.
Shabby timbers splinter and break.
Watter plummets into the boat.
Slowly and slowly sinking.
Seeing my lantern go out.
Feeling my clothes go went.
Feeling the end nearing.
The end.
I yearn the end.
I want the end.
