right now I’m having an anxiety attack. I’m crying. My palms are sweating. My entire body is shaking and tense. My breath is shallow. And all I can think about is how much I want to scratch my arms and legs which are both covered in open scars from previously failing to resist the urge. I’m sitting right in the eye of the storm. All I want or need is comfort but I don’t know how to get it. Who to ask for it. Depression, that old patient cunt tells me that I’m alone in my struggle. That people are over it. I was raped months ago. I seemed just fine in Jamaica. I was smiling on Instagram the other day. I can’t seem to hold on to peace. It keeps getting ripped away in the swirling vortex around me. I knew this would happen. I planned for this to happen. In June you will fall apart.
I think my medicine just kicked in. My breath is deepening. Body still hot and tight I keep my…phone rings. Therapist had to cancel. I can feel my lungs constrict and my eyes well up. I can’t do this another day. But I have to. Ten seconds at a time.