i'm going insane again

what do i do

my anxiety rested well for three months

her hibernation in the fall has ceased

and the voices that ******* me have returned

whenever i feel as if i have defeated her, she welcomes me with open arms again

my life has been a constant battle

i think i'll let her win

it's hard when my legs tense
tense and twist and turn
i shake it off
i stretch
but my insides scream
sometimes i'm afraid that others can hear my insides begging to be free
sometimes i wonder if they can see my trembling body
and quivering eyes
i do my best
i play the part
inside the screaming never stops
never
never
never
never
stops
will never stop
they were silent for a while
but my body laughs at the small pill i take everyday now
my brain is broken
the folds the neurons the cells
do their best to keep me alive
just to have my own knees and last breath
begging to die

scribbles and lines
scribbles lines
my nightmares always scribbles and lines
million of thoughts into scribbles and lines
what if i left school
what if i started a new life
what if i shot myself dead
would it be quiet then
scribbles and lines
scribbles lines

the facade that i'm a cheery, happy squirrel
is tired
i carefully began to build myself a persona the day i knew i wasn't okay
i took the energy from my rare manic episodes and made it a habit to try and always be that way
my facade portrayed me as always positive, always happy
"i love life! i love myself! wow!"
the frantic energy i could muster up
confused my thoughts even more
in trying to keep up the positivity,
nothing else made sense to me
i have to concentrate twice as hard or else it will all fall apart

well decades later the facade is becoming transparent
or maybe i'm just exhausted
i'm not this cheery, happy squirrel
i actually wish everyday i was dead
now i need a pill to give me half the energy  i need to
be okay

each year i knew you, you would grow an inch or two
before i knew it you were stretched out
130 lbs? 5'10?
i forget
skin bones and flesh

somehow we gravitated toward each other
we recognized one another in our auras
maybe
you were the first friend
i could openly talk to about my sickness
and you could talk to me about yours

you fell in love with me
thinking your love could save me
any positive emotion you felt
you channeled to me
but i didn't see you that way
i knew too much about you

one day i had an anxiety attack
you walked almost 2 miles to see me
you didn't have a car then
you sat with me in silence
while i softly cried
until i could fall asleep
and you would walk 2 miles back to your place

in that moment i felt embarrassed
for the first time someone had seen a side of me i kept in control so well
my anxiety irrationally concluded you would think low of me
would never talk to me again
so it deceived me into pushing you away
after that day i ignored or brushed off your calls
your texts
your attempts to see me

a few months later you completely blocked me from your life
and 2 years later you still have that wonderful girlfriend you found
and i can honestly say i'm happy for you
she seems beautiful, nice, lovely, and sane

if it weren't for my mother
me my brother my father
would probably be lost
or broken or dead
if it weren't for my mother's
unconditional, persistent love
i would be dead
i have been spoiled with love
my mother has dedicated her life
made it her mission
to make us feel sane
and for that she is a saint
i'm sorry we're all so ****** up
i'm sorry we don't know how to express
our love
without you
it would all fall apart
you know that and we know that
you have taught me to give all my love to others
110% of what i have
to make up for what they might not

but i am a broken
unlike you
that 110% is all i got
and once it's given
i'm left hallow
carved dry
starved
left to die

i once had a teacher named jillian
she was in her 30s
a sweet, positive angel
a wise and encouraging photo teacher
on march 2nd
she tied a noose to the classroom ceiling
and hung herself
within a few hours she was pronounced dead
an advocate against suicide
an advocate to end stigma against depression and anxiety
she told us her dad got a gun
and shot himself in the head
she never wanted us to feel alone
to feel that life was a dead end
she never wanted us to follow her father's footsteps
but she did
and i sit in bed 3 years later
wondering if i will suffer my whole life like my father
or debating if should
take this
knife
to my
wrist
deep and
wide
and
quiet
my
mind