No one will ever understand what it means to be lost in a mind that is spinning unless one has been through it themselves. I sit here and write this as I look around at the boxes, clothes that need to be hung up, and the only thing I want to do is get lost.
I want to get lost in the art of a scrapbook with love notes and memories. I want to dive into a sound mind where nothing has the ability to destroy me. I want to fly and never land because that means change has taken its place once again.
The weight in my chest and the feeling of my throats closing up is suffocating me. The pictures, the stickers, the music, the writing – can’t take this away. It’s a trap and I’m fighting it the best I know how.
I’m not weak.
I’m getting lost in projects to take my mind off the chaos. Off the pounding heart, the sweaty palms. What happens when I run out of projects? I’m not there yet to find out. But if breakdowns are like this while having projects, then I don’t want to know what it’s like without them.