Symptoms Of Anxiety

“Is it okay if I cry now?”

I whisper this to no one in particular.

I wait for the tears to start falling. I think about the saddest parts of my life. I think about how no one is ever going to love me back. I think of the people who have left me. The personal tragedies that have left their mark on my closest friends and family.

Just… nothing.

There’s an emptiness. A vacuum. A void. There’s so many words in the dictionary to describe the absolute lack of anything I feel right now, but none of them fit quite right.

My heart pounds furiously in my ribcage like an angry animal unjustly forced into captivity.

It wants out.

The paradox lies in the intensity of its nothingness.

I wait for the tears to start falling. I can feel what would have once sent me into sobbing gasps, wrenched over at the gut, approaching me. I watch that feeling come to linger and tease me before it waves goodbye, leaving me to wonder why I can’t cry anymore. It’s been so long since I could cry.

I feel exhausted from this emotional exertion.

I want to jump and scream at the top of my lungs but it is all I can do to pace up and down the creaky wood floor before collapsing onto the nearest flat surface. It’s so hot. My palms feel clammy.

Am I even real? I wonder if real people have feelings. I experiment with terrible and morbid thoughts to see if I can elicit any reaction from myself.

Still, nothing.

Maybe I have become a sociopath.

I am hungry but the idea of food makes me feel disgusting. I eat too much. Why do I eat so much? I eat terribly. I should stop that. I know that I feel this way now, but come several hours I will be scarfing a meal twice the size I need with half the nutrients my body deserves. I am so gross.

But what does it matter?

I wish I could feel this revolted by food at all times. Maybe I would lose weight.

My heartbeat quickens again as I become angry at my own inability to stick with anything. I procrastinate on even the things that are important to me. I am constantly letting people down with what I fail to deliver. Do my words hold any value? My intentions are worth less than anything I can possibly think of to compare them to.

I visualize smashing myself in the face until I no longer hold any cognizance. At least then I would have a valid excuse for my complete worthlessness.

I realize I am breathing rapidly and attempt to hold my breath.

In the silence I realize that at least, for a moment, I had an emotion. I revel in this.

I attempt to mourn my inability to feel anything but hatred and violence towards myself. Even loneliness is losing its hold on me, I have become so numb to its presence in my life.

The only time I even experience how overwhelming my loneliness is, I end up exerting so much energy on not being an asshole about it in public that I’m not even allowed to wrap myself in it for what it is. How is it that you can feel so alone in the company of the very people you want to be with the most?

Why am I so lightheaded?

I am still holding my breath. I try to exhale slowly but it comes out so fast. Breathe in slowly. Exhale. Inhale. There.

There isn’t any fixing this. I realize that there’s no fix. I have thought again and again that I was better. It always comes back to this.

I always wind up here again.

I am so tired. I can’t even muster the energy to try to understand what’s important here. Because, really, what is important here? I’ve chased meaning and accomplishments and loved and given everything I had, but this is where I will always be in the end.

No matter how funny I am, how “loveable” I am — no matter how grand, how wonderful, how externally excellent my life becomes, this is where I live… in my broken, unwanted, undeserving mind.

And not even that realization makes me cry anymore.