End of Me

“When you reach the end of yourself, I will be there too.” Lyrics from a song by We Are Messengers explaining what friends are for.  I can be that friend, but I need a friend like that.

I’m here in my house all alone. My dad is home. And nothing seems right. Everything is gray. I feel like chaos; it’s right in my chest and weighing me down.

I want so badly to tell him exactly what I think, but when I speak nothing comes out right. It’s interpreted differently than what I mean. I am guilty of many things. Who is here to hold me accountable? My friends of none? There are many people I look up to, but none of them are here. Every thing is spiraling. In my mind, I can’t keep focus. I am spinning in my head and everything feels like it’s closing in.

A time is going to occur when I have to look my anxiety in the face and tell it to get the hell out of my way because nothing hurts more than hurting the ones I love dearly. Horrible memories that I want to forget but are a part of my story and still affecting others kills me inside. I’m far from perfect and I’m terribly sorry. I’m back in that place that I cannot get out of. It’s like I am trapped in a tower and no one is coming to save me. The saving wouldn’t matter anyway. The tower would still stand tall and mock my mistakes and failures each time I try to escape.

Sitting at church this morning I was thinking to myself that there is no way I’m going to survive this. I won’t survive what has to happen. I am falling apart. In that moment, when I’m sitting in bathroom stall so others can’t see me break into pieces, that’s the moment when everything seems to be going terribly wrong.

I have reached the end of me. I don’t want to do what needs to be done. I want to run.

I did it to myself. I locked myself in the tower, and now I have no way out. No hope or peace existing within me right now. Who is there to confide in when I can’t stand?

Anxiety is a living hell and with depression it’s like falling into a dark hole in the middle of a deep sleep.


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