I think that, through the years, I've let anxiety take the best ouf of me. I've let it consume me, control me, destroy me.
It went to the point where I accepted it. I knew there would be weeks, months in a year when I would refuse to eat, talk or smile. I knew there would be moments when I would just refuse to be, to live.
And I know, I know I should fight it. I should because I've won so many battles until now. But I'm tired, understand me, I'm tired.
I'm tired and I've become numb. I've become unable to feel, to laugh or think. I've ignored too many problems because life was getting in the way. But life itself, meanwhile, was killing me.
And now, I'm stuck in a tunnel and I can't find the light. And I'm too afraid to talk about it.
I used to be eager for things to happen, and those little things, they helped me breathe, they helped me hope, they helped me smile.
And now, I'm taking it one day at a time.
It's so sad isn't it? So sad that I've struggled so much with anxiety and depression, that I had won many times, yet now, I'm letting it take the best out of me.
I don't want to write that for people to be hopeless, though. I want everyone to keep fighting it. It's evil and toxic, so fight it. And win that battle so that I can win mine. I know how you feel, I know it gets better. I know you just need to find those little fragments of light. Be patient.