Hello people of the Universe !
I cry like everybody. When I am happy, when I am sad, upset, angry, surprised. I cry often and most of the time, like everybody.
Yesterday, I cried. It seems like one of the most usual event, so usual that you only need to make a cup of tea, wrap in a blanket and call a friend to feel better. It is as easy for me. But that time, I didn’t cry like everybody. I had a crisis and it is time to explain what really happened.
During those moments, like last night, what I live is a complete terror. I feel like I don’t fit in, I need space. I feel like I am in a place I don’t know, somewhere I am not accepted, a place that rejects me and devours me from the inside. It is an absolute panic, a desperate and irrepressible wish to escape, to leave far away. My body wants to die because what it endures is painful, so painful I can’t move and have to lay down on my bed. Something overwhelms me, I feel like I can’t breathe and the only option for my body remains to die. I press my arms on my stomach and try to put aside the headache. I cry so much I can’t think clearly. My heart bleeds, I feel I am crushed by all sides and I silently ask for help. I ask for all of that to stop but I know it won’t, and I feel like I don’t belong here anymore. I just want to disappear. It is scary. It is my life.
I would like to tell you I have an explication, but there is not. At least, it is neither a physical, nor an observable one. I never speak about it around me, I am too afraid. People won’t understand, I think. People won’t take it seriously, I answer. People will take too seriously, I whisper.
When those moments happen, I can’t tell you I don’t want to die. The fake reality I am put in makes me wish to. As I don’t understand why, I let fear take more and more place in my body until… But fortunately, I have the presence of mind to cling to the real world, I think of what my life truly is and I keep asking why, why, why, until it creates a song in my head, a lullaby that pacifies the fear. One more time, I survived.
When I was a teenager, I used to seeing writing like a state of endless suffering — Baudelaire is one of my favorite poets for a reason. I wrote poems about death and suicide, I imagined odors and lack of colors, putrefaction of bodies and knives still covered by blood. Today, I am scared of everything, knives, people, everything. I walk in the street with difficulty, I feel like everybody is watching me and analyze my movements. Disdainful looks and sarcastics laughs are always for me. All my anxieties rise to the surface all of a sudden, without any reason, or maybe there is? I don’t know. I study psychology and I can’t find a label to put on what is going on. There is a message I can’t read, I don’t have the good tools. I just know I am like a sponge, I absorb negativity at light speed. I absorb what doesn’t concern me and keep it inside until I explode. My stomach is a time bomb.
It occured again today, in the bus. I fought to keep standing on my legs and looked the landscape outside not to cry and let that force, that fear takes everything away from me. I wish I had an explanation, but I can’t find one. Nothing is in tune anymore and everything is out of sync, shaky. It often happens like that, without warning. It ingratiates and belittles me. But I know it will leave me soon. I will eat and enjoy being with friends again. It is its thing to jostle my balance and then leave. I am used to it. Unfortunately.
But one question remains in my mind: is it all a question of safety?