Anxiety

My body is permeated with disquiet
My thoughts are cloudy my mind racked with fear
I cant control my breathe as I breathe erratically when I’m in public
People stare at me the anxiety intensifies i fall down a black hole of sadness

On the outside i never feel safe I’m alone terrified of a panic attack
I take long breathes to maintain my breathing cycle
I diligently try to maintain a veneer if sanity whilst on the inside I’m crying I’m screaming
In the midst of my injurious anxiety i yearn i ache for the euphoria of solitude

This pernicious anxiety disorder is detrimentally affecting the quality of my life
I cant cultivate romantic relationships due to my acute social phobia
I habitually turn down ardent calls for nights out with close confidants over the anxiety i will endure on a night of socialising of fraternising
I am alone in the darkness unable to articulate to vent my pain of this anxiety

I get pernicious attacks on a monthly basis
Its a horrifying ordeal when i am afflicted with a random panic attack
I cant breathe i collapse to the floor i think I’m dying
Then there’s a profusion of tears i secrete from my eyes after the hell of a panic attack its constant never ending torture I face day after day unable too function unable to live a full gregarious ebullient life

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Dead

No emotion no colour no feeling in my weary bones
I am dead waiting to die feeling nothing existing as a ghost
I meander through life aimlessly in languid zombie like states of numbed despair
I am dead i have become death

The emotion the insatiable slug for life has faded away
The desire for love the dreams are now but dust fantastical illusions
I want nothing more to die to cease to be
Oh to die to end the terminal onerous pain of my pointless existence

Other people exude life and joy
They emit vibrant colours whilst i am this back and white monochrome dulled
A vacant vapid empty shell of a human being
Theres nothing inside of me just a vast emptiness

I used to dream to cry profusely to laugh with friends
Now I’m this laconic withdrawn freak who holds all my pain on the inside
This injurious mental illness my suicidal inclinations have conquered me have slowly corrupted my body and soul
Now i ache for death I dream of a myriad favourable ways of ending my forlorn life i dream of being but a fading sad memory instead of a sad young adult who’s silent screams of emotional torment are unheard in this cold godless universe

Heart Of Gold

I keep on searching through the mire the moil for a heart of gold
A beautiful soul who will elevate me who will transform me
To fall in love to connect spiritually with a charismatic man of my dreams
In the purgatory of my depression in my loneliness i never give up hope

This man exists in my vast imagination
He has flowing dark brown hair
Blue eyes like the ocean that are piecing that gaze into the windows of my soul without fear or artifice
He has a immaculate iridescent effusive smile

He laughs at my jokes and brings me joy with his amenable personality
He smiles frequently has no qualms about being vulnerable or earnest
His warm ebullient personality allows me to be open to confess my struggles with anxiety with depression
When i break down and cry talking about my depression he hugs me intensely he makes me feel like a women a human being that’s loved

This man with a heart of gold exist somewhere in this vast metropolis
He surely resides on this planet hopefully fortuitously our stars will cross
I want to taste his honeyed luscious lips
I want to feel the warmth of his body i want to experience the sublimity of physical intimacy i want his love

Everyday I Think About Killing Myself

Mental illness runs in my family my mum suffered from severe depression her entire adult life. My mum dealt with her terminal depression in a english women by never divulging her emotional torture to anybody. She was a stereotypical english women who was emotional repressed who was unable to be candid about her suicidal inclinations. I have inherited these detrimental personality traits from my mum. I have endured since i was 13 deep depression i also suffer from a paralysing social anxiety a negative attribute my deeply introverted father has. In my family we never communicated emotionally even though i had two loving affectionate parents who were demonstrative effusive in showing their love for me.

When i was 13 years old in my formative teenage years a traumatic life altering event befall our family. Me and my accountant father were driving home from my cello lesson and arrived atour suburban residence and discovered the grisly sight of my mums body hanging from the ceiling. My mum had killed herself and left only a succinctly worded suicide note where she elucidated her reasons why she committed suicide. It was a devastating moment that forever altered my perceptive on life on God on myself. After that day i became severely depressed developed long term anxiety issues began to suffer from habitual panic attacks and the genesis of my body dysmorphia occurred after the tragic death of my mum at the tender age of 38. Following her suicide i distanced myself from my father lived in the sanctuary of my room when i was home. We rarely conversed other than banal small talk we never dared to open up the wounds of my mums untimely suicide. Like a prototypical middle class middle England family we repressed our pain.

Its been nearly 10 years since that tumultuous day when my mum killed herself. Since then i have progressed from a neurotic anxiety riddled teenager into a troubled adult with untreated unexpressed psychosis and disorders. The anxiety has exacerbated into a detrimental social phobia. The depression is metastasised into daily sick suicidal fantasises. Like my mum i have refrained from confiding with a friend or seeking the ameliorating help of a professional therapist. I have hidden suppressed my mental illnesses the fear of being vulnerable the terrifying fear of being judged by another person. Hence i put on this veneer of normality hiding my crippling perennial psychological problems. I halve inherited my mums introverted propensities to never cry in public to exist in private inner world of emotional torment.

I muse daily on killing myself in my overactive imagination. Everyday its a new manner of death every conceivable iteration i ponder. Whether its a drug overdose to the harrowing hanging slitting of my wrists and severing a vital artery. I think about jumping from a block flats and letting my emaciated body get crushed on the concrete floor. I ruminate whether or not i will leave a note a poem what i would say in this verbose or succinctly worded suicide creation. On numerous moments when the idea of suicide has seen to me alluring i have composed a variety of poems essays in which i delineate the reasons why I want to end my life prematurely. These are dark desolate moments in my lonely life when the only escape from the immiseration of my pathetic life is to cease existing.

One time when i cut myself in a desperate act of a self harm on my underarm to feel some pain. I decided with my inhibitions loosened from devouring copious amounts of alcohol to call the Salvation Army suicide number. I spoke with a kind softly spoken serene women who dissuaded me from slashing my wrists. This is the only instance i ever openly talked to another soul about my oppressive depression that’s negatively impacted every facet of my life. It wasn’t a genuine suicide attempt it was though a forlorn cry for help in the early hours of a Saturday morning. I cried during and after this laconic phone conversation which lasted a mere 5 minutes. The aftermath of this interaction was a feeling of elation to unburden myself from the shackles of my emotional repression. To finally divulge my darkest secrets to a faceless compassionate stranger left me feeling euphoric even with the tears the snot falling down my nose. With my lacerated arms i had a moment when I acknowledged to another person my illness i was vulnerable with the help of alcohol.

However subsequent after that potential momentous phone conversation i fall back into my negative behavioural pattern of adopting this facade this exterior of normalcy . I reneged from disclosing my depression my anxiety to my small tribe of cohorts. I never sought out the rehabilitative help of a therapist who could improve my depression. The pain would only be unveiled on my online poems my diary entries my blog. None of my friends family work colleagues would ever be cognisant of the severity of my fragile mental state. I continued hiding my anxiety attacks my self harm my suicidal proclivities. Still i would fantasise about ending my life fantasise about the funeral. What would my father say in the eulogy would there be a profusion of tears from the funeral attendees. My perfect method of suicide I have surmised is to die from an overdose of opiate painkillers whilst listening to the soothing melancholic songs of Lana del Rey. Hearing her soothing dulcet melodic tones as I drift off into nothingness would be the perfect way to end my short lamentable life.

Some days the pain the torture the purgatory of life becomes so onerous i just want to die. In my broken mind I’m screaming end the pain end the pain fuck being alive. I cant take it anymore cant endure the loneliness the abject desolation of my forlorn existence. Walking around i utter the silent words to myself freak freak freak die you bitch when i pass strangers who cast their derisive glares at my direction. I’m screaming at myself wanting to be nothing screaming with my self loathing laments to die. These are the worst days when the dark fantasies feel so real when death is plausible to me. Everyday though even on rare days of tranquility I contemplate suicide.

My Escape

After another onerous day of interacting with strangers
After another vexatious day of awkward social intercourse
After all the anxiety all the toxicity that been accumulating inside of me like a volcano
I escape to my safe space a land of immersive video games

Its a virtual universe where I’m free from all the sadness all the stress of life
My anxiety my depression evaporates temporarily as i play for hours in linear single player video games
I can not only escape the world but myself my limited introverted introspective personality and become a alter ego a id
I sit down on the edge of my bed plug in my gaming headphones and begin hours of escapist immersive gaming

My favourite game is the last of us a breathtakingly beautiful and poignant game
A game which elicits me to cry on numerous occasions
I cry on a video game when important characters die so tragically
This game is my escape my 21st century literature

I hide in the enclave of my room forgetting all the troubles of being afflicted with a variety of mental disorders
The pain of existing dissipates as i plug in the video game and lose myself in a seductive virtual landscape
These worlds are my escape that inspire and inflame my imagination
After playing a engrossing linear first player game I’m inspired to create sublime works of literature

Thinking About Suicide

Its on my mind all the time
Suicide the perennial screensaver on my consciousness
I constantly contemplate ending my life
Contemplate the most preferable method of suicide

I think about the perfect soundtrack to my untimely demise
Maybe its a combination of joy division and haunting melancholic classical music
The most desirable way of death i have surmised is a drug overdose
Other methods like hanging drowning slashing my wrists are harrowing excruciatingly painful ways to die

I want my death to be painless I want to drift into nothingness without the pain of life
No blood no grisly corpse just a languid sleeping body rendered death by a copious deadly quantity of opiate painkillers
As I drift away into permanent sleep i want the exemplary cello concerto by Elgar to be echoing into my mind
Then the pain of life the pain of existing this way will be over with me experiencing profoundly moving music

Many times i ruminate about suicide without feeling abjectly depressed
It my morbid mind that’s has these bizarre streams of consciousness
My mins that has sick twisted fantasies of death it how i escape the horror the turgidity of life
It only be ton escape the boredom the mediocrity of my life that have a final memorable act in a otherwise futile life

Silent Hurt

I’m screaming nobody hears my forlorn cries for help
I bellow these laments of hurt that are lost in my introverted consciousness
The hurt the goddamn hurt the pain of being alive
Its inside of this interminable unexpressed suffering

Rather than express divulge my suffering i repress I retreat
I lacerate my arms in a masochistic act to feel my pain
I eschew talking to a therapist or seeking medication for my illness
The hurt festers and metastasises in me till the point when suicide seems more preferable than stying alive

On the outside my friends my family have no idea I’m existing with a mental illness
I perpetuate a facade a mask
As i project a image of serenity
They are entirely unaware of my anxiety my depression that crippling silent hurt of being me

I scream i am desperate to convey my pain to anybody
I fantasise about getting hug getting a acknowledgment from my pain
I dream of eruditely articulating my depression to a close friend and having streams of tears flowing down my face and feeling the euphoria of expressing the pain

Instead i repress i hide the pain
I carry on this facade to protect myself
I am alone in my hurt in my wounded fragile soul
I am this vulnerable broken women longing for anybody to hear my silent screams of emotional anguish