Anxious

My heart is racing, my breath is agitated, my chest feels heavy, my hands are shaking, my stomach feels sick, my vision is blurry, my mind is dissociated from wherever it is I’m standing right now.

I can’t breathe. I can’t see.

I’m dizzy.

There are too many things going on in my head; there are too many thoughts; there’s too little time.

A thousand feelings and memories and troubles hit me at once and I’m overwhelmed, yet I can’t bring myself to feel anything but numb. But at the same time I can also feel everything that could possibly be felt. I can’t comprehend.

Too many voices are around me right now–too many for my liking.

I’m usually okay with closed spaces but right now it’s closing in on me.

I’m walking, but I can’t feel it; now I’m sitting down, but I can’t feel it; now I’m writing, but I can’t feel it; now I’m talking, but I can’t hear it.

I didn’t sleep. Is it that? But this has happened before. Or has it? I can’t remember.

My thought process is messy, but my mind is set on all the things I have to do.

Procrastination. Hopelessness. No future for you. Right? I don’t know anymore.

My mom is texting me to just breathe and think of something nice.

Gee, thanks, never thought of that.

I can’t get it out of my head—I can’t get the numbness out.

I need a therapist. Or do I need enlightenment?

I don’t know.

I need to breathe, but I can’t.

I can’t feel me. Or can I?

Photo credits to: theheartysoul

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When I need you

It was December 23, 2003 when I came,

and, then, only ten days after, you left,

And from that time I should’ve known

That it would always stay the same.

Years came and we got closer

But then you got another family.

I always knew you were a poser

But it still hurt to see you happily.

Fifteen years have gone by

And I can’t help but realize:

You’d never sing me a lullaby

And yet I loved you without thinking twice.

When I think of it, with me

I sympathize

Because that love I thought you for me had

Feels like nothing but a lie.

Years came and we got closer

And you’d still claim a lot from me,

And even though you never call me

I still became your devotee.

We went different ways,

But I still loved you;

We become different people,

But I still missed you.

Life brought us back together

And I thought it would be for good

But everything stayed like always

(Probably the way it always should).

And then my fifteenth party arrived

And you made it your second option.

That day I realized you’re never there.

You’re never there when I need you.

An Awaited Birthday

It’s exactly 11:30pm when I glance at the top of my phone where it indicates the current time. Only thirty more minutes.

The time has finally come. I’ve been waiting for this moment since I was four and my family has been anticipating it with equal excitement since I was born. It’s a lot to take in.

Turning fifteen won’t be an easy thing. Why you ask? Because it changes everything. Continue reading “An Awaited Birthday”

December 14: A bomb threat at Sandy Hook on the anniversary of the 2012 mass shooting

Imagine you’re seated in class at your elementary school. Your teacher talks about how today you’ll be learning to divide; you gleam with newfound excitement, eager to start this path towards knowledge that seems to be opening up for you.

Suddenly, you hear a sound–a sound that scares you to your bones and spends creepy chills down your spine: the school’s alarm is blaring and someone’s voice has announced that the school is on lock-down and everyone has to get out immediately. Continue reading “December 14: A bomb threat at Sandy Hook on the anniversary of the 2012 mass shooting”

Music Turned Into Writing: I don’t want to be you anymore

I’ve always wanted to be the star of the show. It might sound narcissistic but, honestly, being the main focus of everything always felt really good and right—like it was meant to be for me. Growing up I had everything to make it possible for me to stand out: the personality, the charisma, what my teachers called the ‘spark’, the talents, the easygoing nature, etc. So, it was never hard for me to fit in anywhere and always have massive crowds of people after or with me at all times. Continue reading “Music Turned Into Writing: I don’t want to be you anymore”

Tiny

Can you see me? Are you even aware I’m here? Because it feels like you aren’t.

Do you even know my name, my passions, my story? So why judge me already?

I feel tiny under your strict gaze, which from time to time shifts to a softer one, but then it all just goes back to how it was before.

It’s sad feeling tiny and useless.

It’s sad feeling like this all the time. Continue reading “Tiny”

And It Only Gets Louder

It gets louder and louder—the pain, I mean.

I wonder: how?

How can it be possible for a physical sensation to get louder with every second that passes?

I don’t know. But it just keeps getting louder.

Every scream and profanity just keeps getting louder.

The toxic masculinity that rolls off his tongue continuously stabs my poor heart and damages the loving memories that I had of him.

She can only respond with a soft, almost broken “lower your voice.”

The pain resonates throughout the entire house and as much as I’d like to cancel it out with my bedroom doors that usually keep all bad things away, it just gets louder and louder.

And then the noise stops—so does my heart. Continue reading “And It Only Gets Louder”

The sea

When I think about how my life used to be when I was a child, the first thing that comes to mind is that sacred place in which I spent most of my earliest days alive: the sea. The thrilling and yet peace-inducing waves that would carry my body from side to side seem to be one of the sea’s features that I reminisce whenever I’m near said place. Continue reading “The sea”

A Series Of Fortunate Vignettes

Vignette: a small impressionistic scene, an illustration, a descriptive passage, a short essay, a fiction or nonfiction work focusing on one particular moment; or giving an impression about an idea, character, setting, mood, aspect, or object.

Being fourteen is more than just going through one more of the “angsty and rebellious” years of your life. Being fourteen means Continue reading “A Series Of Fortunate Vignettes”

“A Death Ends a Life, Not a Relationship”

From left to right: My great grandmother, me (at three years old), and my mother.

“A death ends a life, not a relationship.” This was said by Morrie, the main character of the book ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’. I can relate incredibly to this quote because I experienced the death of someone extremely close to me when I was a child. At only four and a half years old, Continue reading ““A Death Ends a Life, Not a Relationship””