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Panic Attacks
11 years ago
"And the pain was there. My mind was corrupted; toxic to self and loved ones. Peace was the concept of death. My heart couldn't hold strong any longer. Sin of shame slew the last of my sanity. Logic didn't exist. Pain in my soul screamed to all, mute in reality. None heard. No one ever would. Forgotten, ignored, shamed: these pains bled the heart of a man. Hollow and hallow, the story faded. No more word, the sacred communicator. Welcome to the Pit. Dry and cold. Age exists in the slow. Eternity in the haze of not-life. Dreams are dead. Future discarded."
Tonight, during a panic attack, this came out.
Never have I been so precarious in my steps. Forward towards the healed world of happiness and freedom, but held by the tendrils of past shames, fears, and pains. Every step is one made with faith and hope, not of security or certainty. My friends generate the courage to continue; sorrow at my inept existence bleeds me dry.
Doubt weighs on me, though. Is there sincerity in my friends? Will they be there if I fall? Will they abandon the weak one as life has shown will happen? Trust in my friends, when history and time has given me no reason at all to believe? Four years of a life anew. Can I build off that? Can I be happy? Abandonment, rejection, deception... that is what I expect from my new friends. I don't argue with the idea, rather, I ignore it. I trudge on through the muck. If what I suspect will happen does, then the answer will be clear. If I am proven wrong, will I know it? What if my friends remain? What if at least one will take my hand when they seen the horror that is me?
So full of shame, regret, hate... Can the broken be fixed? I'm going to find out, I suppose...
Soon, I will make an attempt to live in Denver, away from a toxic environment that eats away my soul. My dream is to write. Where I am at, I don't write. I dwell, and cry, and mourn. Breath out of a cage; can that be all I need to renew the core of me? Will the cyan light return and give me the healing of a story?
Tonight, during a panic attack, this came out.
Never have I been so precarious in my steps. Forward towards the healed world of happiness and freedom, but held by the tendrils of past shames, fears, and pains. Every step is one made with faith and hope, not of security or certainty. My friends generate the courage to continue; sorrow at my inept existence bleeds me dry.
Doubt weighs on me, though. Is there sincerity in my friends? Will they be there if I fall? Will they abandon the weak one as life has shown will happen? Trust in my friends, when history and time has given me no reason at all to believe? Four years of a life anew. Can I build off that? Can I be happy? Abandonment, rejection, deception... that is what I expect from my new friends. I don't argue with the idea, rather, I ignore it. I trudge on through the muck. If what I suspect will happen does, then the answer will be clear. If I am proven wrong, will I know it? What if my friends remain? What if at least one will take my hand when they seen the horror that is me?
So full of shame, regret, hate... Can the broken be fixed? I'm going to find out, I suppose...
Soon, I will make an attempt to live in Denver, away from a toxic environment that eats away my soul. My dream is to write. Where I am at, I don't write. I dwell, and cry, and mourn. Breath out of a cage; can that be all I need to renew the core of me? Will the cyan light return and give me the healing of a story?
I care not, but that someone cared for me when I was lost, so now I care.
I feel not, but that someone felt for me when I was shamed, so now I feel.
I loved not, but that someone loved me when I was unlovable, so now I love.
I am not perfect. I am the sum total of my past; the better from some and the worse from others.
Because I have been in that dark place where the very substance of soul is drawn from you and left you utterly hollow,
I now fill my life with those like myself.
If I am anything, I would be one in the company of those with discarded futures.
Come, my brethren: yesterday we followed someone else's future, but today, we follow our own futures.
It gets better, just hold in there. Denver is nice and Colorado is a great place to live. I find living in the smaller towns in the mountains are more of the "real" Colorado, but Denver is still nice.
Hope things get better for you sooner than later!