Tight Walls

I’m writing this, when I literally have no time to even look around me.

Anyone who knows me will know that I’m in the most stressed few days of my life.

And I’m still writing.

I’m still leaving everything and I’m still writing here, because I need the relief. Even though it won’t fix a thing, I need to know that someone who may not even know me has read this, and knows what I’m going through. As if this would distribute my stress among every reader. Yes, I actually have hope in that. I’m that desperate at this moment.

Sometimes not a thing is going right. Well, to be honest, nothing is going very wrong either, but that is not good enough.

Everyone around me is stressing me in their own way. There are those who don’t notice it, and those who choose not to.

I’ve learnt, throughout my life, to never ask for anything twice. Doing so exhausts me. Everytime I do otherwise, I realise that I’m draining my emotions into something that not everybody notices, which only brings more stress home.

I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t expect any one to be completely aware of how deeply emotionally wrecked I am (which rarely happens). No one. Not even the closest. Not even my own family.

I’ve learnt that at moments of stress, everything is magnified. Everything. It’s like I just want to beg everyone to stop whatever they’re doing to me for just a few days. You do something tiny, I feel like you’ve done every wrong thing in the world. And that, too, stresses me because I feel like I’m losing my ability to communicate.

I’ve learnt that talking your stresses out doesn’t really make them go away. It might make it worse when you feel like you’ve poured out every silly little thing in your heart unnecessarily.

Currently, I have no idea what I want to do or whether or not I have the will to make it this time. Giving up to your fears, rage, pain and every other illusionary negative emotion that you have is quite easy and ever so tempting at times.

On the outside, I’m perfectly fine. See these laughs? They’re not originating from my heart. Not even close.

On the inside, there’s a mess that’s going out of my control.

And I just can’t help it.