It always hits like a tidal wave, doesn't it?
The anxiety, the panic, the  t e r r o r.

I haven't met anyone that suffers from social anxiety as I do. My actions are always interpreted as they are on the surface. I think my friends have concluded that I'm naturally a *****.

Yes, I snapped at you because I'm nasty and have an awful temper. (I feel like you are trying to hurt me, you are trying to hurt me, please leave me alone)

Yes, I rolled my eyes because I'm inconsiderate. (Is this working? Do I look strong? Do I look like I'm relaxed and unbothered even though my heart might jump out of my chest?)

Yes, I just have a resting ***** face. (If I smile I'll look weird, and if I look weird people might do things to me, the might hurt me, they might hurt me like... like... he did)

If we tried to better understand our reasoning behind peoples actions, it helps us better understand ourself. It's why I'm so patient with my friends when they are breaking down, when they snap at me, ***** about me, trigger me. Because I know they are hurting too.

Or perhaps this is just naivety. That too.

Miss Perfect
Who has everything going for her, always achieving her goals and striving for more.

She has a fantastic family who watch over her, support her, give her anything she needs.

Not only a family, but a lover! At 23? to have a fiance?? Wow she has really got everything going for her.

She's so headstrong - intimidating even, thats so admirable. She is always so motivated, never letting her mind stray from what she wants.

She's going to have a great life.

But what they don't know,
what they don't see
are the ***** imperfections
the scars
the pulling of her skin and hair
the cuts
the blood
the waking up in cold sweats
the s c r e a m i n g
the crying, crying, crying,
the plan, written out in full with a date stamped on the front
the pain
the insults ripping through her mind every second of every day

They don't really see her, at all.
Just what they want to see.

My friends know far less than they think they know.
I'm not good at lying - not at all.

"I was working" "I was at a driving lesson" "I was in the SU"

It isn't lying if I believe it.
I think it's the disassociation
That when the cuts that decorate my thighs split open and I find myself in the bathroom for hours trying to cover them up

I really do believe I am somewhere else

Somewhere where perhaps, I'm normal - surrounded by people who love me and we can laugh and laugh and laugh and cry together.

My friends, bless them are both a treasure and a curse.
A curse because they aren't really my friends
only friends of the persona I have constructed

they wouldn't like the real me
she is no fun to be around - more dead than alive

A treasure because they give me a reason to open my mouth each day
Give me a reason to think

When I would much much rather cease to exist