I breathe in, my lungs inflate like a ballon inside the barrier we call skin, they burn. As if a fire has been set in me, no longer allowing me to breathe. I manage to breathe out one long shaky breath. My eyes are like a dam, holding back water, tears. Tears that have been stored for months, maybe years. Each mean word and rude comment filling more water into me. I close my eyes. Words come out of my mouth. Words that I’ve managed to say. Words that come up empty. Words so hallow that you could knock on them and only hear a remaining echo. You ask again, as if repeating a question will change my answer. You ask if I’m okay. You ask if everything is fine. My heart tightens, my lungs stop. My jaw clenches. These words. That question. Always that question. Then my heart starts again. And my lungs. Everything starts again.I say I’m fine. I always say I’m fine. I always tell the same lie. A lie that is so forcefully shoved out of my mouth. And so I pretend. Making up dreams in my mind about me being okay. But it is okay, because sometimes I believe my own lies too.
Can you relate to this? How do you make this feeling stop?