Everything Is Fine

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Everything is fine.

I mean, there’s really nothing I should be complaining about. I went to my favorite restaurant last night with my roommate. We ate burritos and drank margaritas then went home and cleaned out the fridge. I went to my friends house after and we talked and laughed and cuddled. We woke up in the morning for work and had sex before I even got dressed for the day.

Everything was fine. It’s still fine.

Except it doesn’t feel fine. Nothing feels fine. Most days I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to say this is a new feeling but I just think it’s louder than it’s ever been. I don’t think I’ve always wanted to disappear and run away, but I desperately do now. Except my need for attention shatters that desire because I’ve done it before — packed a backpack and gone away for the weekend or weeks by myself and all it leaves me feeling is more depressed.

Everything is fine. Except that I can’t breathe anymore, sometimes I think about you and I feel a physical pain in my chest and I wonder how we could have let this blow up like this.

Some days it feels like there’s a weight on my chest, some days I feel like no matter how hard I try I can’t stop the tears from coming, some days I get scared I’ll never fully recover from this. Some days I wish I lived alone because then I could lay in my bed all weekend and not feel judged or guilty. Some days I wish I could get in the car and drive so far away but I think I know the only direction I’d head so I can’t allow myself to do that.

I often find myself feeling like I don’t know how to be a person anymore. Like living has become too much for me. Like I wish I could take a break from it all, but I know I can’t.

Everything feels hard. Nothing feels ok, but everything is fine.

Everything is fine.

 
Becca MartinComment