my anxieties have anxiety; but don’t worry about it.

You suck the life out of so many people, without their permission. Without the courtesy to explain yourself, and without an apology. And the truth is, the millions of people who suffer from your grasp, did nothing to deserve your kind of evil. 

mental illness.


  • any of various disorders in which a person’s thoughts, emotions, or behavior are so abnormal as to cause suffering to himself, herself, or other people.

It often goes unnoticed in the unanswered texts, the flakiness, the self isolation. Often it manifests into an unexplained anger, a lack of tolerance. It is insomnia that keeps you awake all night, but it is also the sleeping away of the days just to survive until the next.

It is living without living. Breathing without breath.

It’s days without reason, nights without rest.

It is exhausting, tiring, unbearable. A constant battle of wits.

Criticisms and affirmations, just to save you from losing sanity.

That pain in the stomach that confuses the body in to believing it is unwell. The tightness of the chest that is so constricting you simply cannot breathe.

It is the fear of the unknown. The terror of the known. The loneliness of being alone, but the sadness of being surrounded by people.

It is the analysis of every day. Questioning the unanswerable and answering the unquestionable.

Some days are worse than others; but you see it’s a tricky relationship. There are days now when I barley notice you. And yet there are days when you leave me beaten and broken. Today was one of the latter; requiring me to write these words. Today, my illnesses were a beast.

Anxiety; this is what I want you to know [ and everyone else, yet again ]: I absolutely hate you, almost every part of you. I resent how you have filled every empty space inside of me. You even managed to worm your way into parts of me that I thought were full. I have nothing of my own. My thoughts are not my own. My actions are not my own. My relationships are not my own. I share them. I share it all with you. I hate you. When you’re not manipulating my insides, causing my chest to tighten, my heart to race, my stomach to twist and my breathing to become impossible, making me wish I was dead instead of experiencing all of this? You stand behind me, reminding me of the past. You lean over my shoulder whispering in my ear. I hate you. You know everything. You know my every flaw, my every weakness, my every worry and fear. You abuse them at every turn.

Depression; You make things difficult, more difficult than I can imagine. Some days I can’t get out of bed; other days I can’t stop crying. Some days I am both. I want to be a part of fun plans that are proposed. I want to be the one who closes down the bar, who never skips a birthday dinner, or who is the first to a weekend trip out of the city. But sometimes I just can’t be that person. It’s never as easy as “I don’t want to”, it’s that there are times I simply [ and physically ] cannot.

Anxiety; There are rare moments I don’t despise you. Thank you for teaching me the people that always look and act happy, the people with the biggest smiles, might not truly feel that way. I applaud you for bringing me so low that I can never imagine doing that to someone else. You have taught me compassion and the ability to continuously remind people of why they’re important [ even when it is taken for granted ], why they matter, that they are unconditionally loved, because you and I both know you will never let me feel that way in return. [ or ever to accept those feelings from someone else ]

Depression; You keep setting this trap around me, wrapping yourself tighter and tighter until before I know it I can’t see. I can only see through the little hole you’ve given me, and everything looks dim. I can’t remember a day I didn’t feel like crying, and just giving up. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to eat or the last time I actually laughed, and all I want to be is happy. I’m heavy under your trap and I struggle to find a fight for myself to get out. Everything that once made me smile is a chore. You’ve sucked the love out of my passions and the life out of me.

Anxiety; Everyday you have me waking up on edge, my mind racing, making lists in my head of all the things I have to do, trying to plan my day, my actions, the way I stand, the way I talk, the eye contact I make, panicking that somehow I’ll screw up something, [ everything ] always bouncing around never feeling like I can sit still, having to move from one thing right on to the next in fear that if I let my mind wander, even for a second, I’ll fall into a full panicked mess. I feel like I can never get enough air in my lungs. The days when you make me want to stay in my bed because of your whispers, the whispers that turn into yells that are so damn loud in my head. I HATE YOU. You make me feel like I can’t face people, because I’m not worthy of taking up the same space they stand. You cause the nights I can’t sleep, so I try, I try so hard to stay busy so I can push myself to complete exhaustion; so I don’t stop to think.

Depression; You’re spinning faster and I’m spiraling. I haven’t been level headed in weeks. People ask me what’s wrong. I can’t do real life most days, it all feels like a dream when I try. I have trouble breathing. You’ve spun the self-doubt and fear and the idea that I’ll never be appreciated, to a reality. I can’t eat. You’ve pressed the ideas of how being skinny is the key. I can’t sleep. That’s when you weave around me the most. [ the darkness ]

Anxiety; if I let my mind wander for even a moment you pounce on it. You help my mind to critique me on my day and show me how the smallest issue can change the course of my whole life and how I could royally screw up at any turn, and I can’t turn it off. I can’t turn off my thoughts no matter how irrational I know they may be, I cannot follow logic and it makes me even more upset and by then you creep back inside of me, taking over my insides and you throw me into a panic attack. I hate you. You constantly bring your friends around, and they linger with me, and I think they just may take up permanent residency like the rest. Depression, perfectionism and even your relations with eating disorders come around. The depression that tells me none of it is worth it. The perfectionism that says I’ll never measure up. The anorexic spurts that give a aspect of control before it all falls apart.

Depression & Anxiety; The feeling as if I’m suffocating in all of the above. Sometimes I wish you’d spin a little faster, a little tighter. Making it all stop. I just want it to stop. I want to be stronger than you. Smarter than you. I want to love the things around me. I want to love myself. You make it all hard. Almost impossible.

I hate you,

with all of me I hate you;

[ … but not as much as I hate me.]

You’re still here and I’m still here.

What can we do about that? One of us has to go.


But you haven’t won, not yet.


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