***Trigger Warning. The following deals with mental illness.***

Anxiety is overwhelming. The delusional thoughts are more real than what I’m seeing. My thoughts are hijacked by this process, thinking about what might happen. It could happen, couldn’t it? I know this thought isn’t real, but it’s possible somehow. No matter what I see telling me, it isn’t real. It’s physically impossible. It’s completely illogical, and I struggle to make it stop.

It’s a new flavor of breakdown every time. Maybe, I finally found some good advice. Don’t fuel the fire. Do not allow myself to feed the thoughts. It can be a reminder of the tale of two wolves in your mind. The one that lives is the one you feed. Why would I feed such negative thoughts?

They tell me my friends aren’t real. My friends don’t care. No one would care what happens to me. Once in a while, there’s a thought I could run away, or I could become nothing. If I weren’t around, how many lives would improve? 

Reality: None. It would destroy the people around me that do love me. My friends do care about me. I have a family loving me dearly. My reality became skewed from my negativity. Delusional thoughts can be overpowering. I’m the one that feeds the thoughts, though. I know they’re not real, my thoughts aren’t real, and reality is glaring in front of me.

The neon sign lights up, telling me I am loved. I am stronger than I believe. I feel as though I should believe the sign is telling the truth. I can believe it. I don’t need to be the mess I am. I need to reach out, find stable ground.

I let myself jump off the cliff, hide things with bad jokes. I let everything cling to my mind. The thoughts won’t disappear. I don’t want to keep them, but I don’t want to let them go. They’ll protect me. They’ll protect me from others, and they’ll protect me from myself. If I never let the wall down, then I can’t get hurt again.

I don’t want to get hurt again. It’s happened far too many times. So often, I’ve misplaced my trust, I’ve misplaced my love, and I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve. The voice tells me horrible things, that I’m not loved, and I’m never worth loving. It would be better if I could run and people would find their happiness. 

I want so badly to accept that I am loved, I am important to people and special. I want nothing more than to believe that people want to have me around without ulterior motives. They don’t want to harm me, but sometimes it’s easier to believe they do. It’s so much easier to believe that people have some reason to hurt me than that they actually care about me.

Maybe I’m the end of some joke. Maybe I don’t matter to anyone. I know it’s not true. I know it doesn’t make sense for people to keep me around for so long just to be a joke. I know things couldn’t play out this long. My thoughts are illogical.

This all goes back to the first thought. Anxiety is overwhelming. I need to believe that I am enough. I need to find my inner ground. People may tell me I’m worth it, but I need to allow myself to believe it. I need to allow myself to know, I’m loved, and I am worthy. I am worthy. The overwhelming anxiety may tell me otherwise, but I won’t give up, and I will believe that I am worth it. I do matter, and I am loved. I’m not giving up. 

Photo courtesy of Ricards Zalmezs via Unsplash