Anxiety Attack. December '13.

I left my sister with four of her friends, two boys and three girls all together. 15 and 16 years old. They were on the right side of the stage in the front. The opening act hadn't even started yet.
I went with my friends to check out the bar and the food stalls. After five minutes I ran back to tell her I would be back in fifteen and to stay where she is.
My friends and I looked around, got some drinks and went back to where I left her. The opening act had started and people had started forming a huge crowd.
I looked around and couldn't find her.
Panic overwhelmed me.
I burst into tears. I was sobbing like I had never sobbed before in my life. The only thing I could relate it to is the part in The Iliad when Achilles sobs after finding out that Patroclus is dead. I couldn't control myself. My friends were worried. I finished my drink, threw my glass down and pushed my way through the crowd.
There were so many humans, pushing against each other. Jumping up and down. I couldn't see her anywhere.
I came back out of the crowd. I went looking. I was in a daze, tears kept pouring down my contorted face. People stared and looked at me funny.
I took out my phone and tried calling her multiple times. There was no service. I called her friend's number, no luck. I kept sending texts hoping one would go through. All this while walking around crying and screaming out.
I ran into a friend, literally ran into him and he had to hold me up. I was crying so much, in a state of panic and anxiety. All I wanted was to find her. They all said it would be okay and that she would be fine but I didn't care, I couldn't deal with them so I asked them to leave me alone.
I went into the crowd four more times, I shoved, I screamed, I elbowed everyone out of my way. Could not find them. The tears would not stop. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see properly.
I had one aim, to make sure my sister was okay.
So many thoughts running through my mind, I thought of all the things that could have happened to her. I knew she was safe but I needed her in front of my eyes. I would have killed myself if anything had happened to her. She is my life. I started hitting myself for being so stupid, for not taking better care of her.
I walked around, looking for her face among the crowd. Catching eyes of strangers who could see the pain on my face.
There were moments I felt I would fall, but I couldn't, I had to keep looking.
Finally a text went through, but she wasn't picking up my calls. I told her to meet me by the bathrooms and waited there.
My friends came back to me. I felt guilty that I was ruining their night. I tried to calm down but I couldn't.
I was worried for her so much.
And yes, she was my responsibility as was one of her friends, but that wasn't what was bothering me. I needed to make sure she was okay, that she wasn't harmed in any way. I needed to be there to protect her and I wasn't. I let her down. I was miserable. It was horrible. Nothing else mattered.
We waited and waited. I was slowly giving up. I couldn't keep myself standing.
My legs gave way and I sat on the ground with hundreds of people around me. I prayed.
I am not a religious person. I am agnostic and feel that unless you can prove to me that there is a God I can't believe. But last night I prayed. I prayed that she was okay. I prayed that she would come back to me. I prayed that everything would be okay.
I sat on the ground and prayed. Faith is all I had in the end. I gave up. I had no hope. I knew going back in the crowd would have been futile. I know the phones weren't working. There was nothing else to do but wait. So I prayed. After last night I feel confused, for so long I believed there was no God. And then God helped me in my time of need. In the darkest moment of my entire life it was my faith that helped me.
A few minutes later my friend got through to my sister on the phone. I was able to hear her voice and I knew she was okay.
A new wave of tears. Relief. But I still needed her to be with me. In front of my eyes.
She finally found us there. At first I yelled at her. I was more angry at myself. But then I just held her and cried. I cried and I cried and I cried. I cried so much that I fell back on the ground and cried some more.
The rest of the night I didn't let her out of my sight. Wherever she went I followed her. I held her hand every time we moved. I shielded her from the crowds and shoved away any one who got to close.
My sister is my life.
Losing her for even that amount of time was the scariest thing I have ever been through.
I love her so much that it scares me. If I ever lost her, I would not have a life, I wouldn't be able to live.
Some may say it was unreasonable and an over the top reaction, that she was with her friends and would have been safe.
My sister is everything to me. She is literally the only reason I am alive.
She is the one I think of every time I think that life isn't worth it. Every time I think about ending it all, she is the one who stops me and tells me to keep going.
Imagine losing the only thing that keeps you alive. And what you would do to find it and get it back.
I am so shaken by this entire experience. I am crying while writing this. I assume that people would normally look back and laugh at such a situation.
But I, I will always remember the pain and fear and desperation I felt. The tremors of this earthquake will never stop. Everyone says, it's all right now, you found her and she was not harmed. Everyone says to just be careful next time and to stop thinking about it.
I cannot. Everything may be all right now, but at that point it wasn't, it feels like that point has been burned into my brain. I keep thinking about all the things that could have gone wrong, the darkest timeline.
Last night, that one and half hour, was the darkest time of my whole existence. I have felt terrible before, I have been in a dark place where there is no hope. But last night was worse than all that. It was like someone had ripped my soul out of my body and was burning me alive.
I don't think I will ever be able to shake that memory out of my mind, or be able to turn it into something that isn't so horrible.
I prayed for my sister to be born, I wanted her to be brought into this world. I need her to always be okay, I need her to always be safe. She is everything to me.
I love her so much. 

This year.

This year sucked.


It was so terrible. I did such terrible things. Such terrible things happened.

The end. 

Shame. Vulnerability. Guilt. Empathy. Compassion. Connections. Life.

So a few hours ago, I came across these ted-talks by a woman named Brene Brown. I have the habit of watching emotional videos, crying a lot and then not being able to fall asleep.

Tonight was one such night.
After shutting down my laptop, I realized I hadn't been able to shut down my brain.

I lay in bed, thinking, what am I ashamed of, and the answers came rushing to my mind. I started to think about how vulnerable I am, and how I feel about it. Tears rushing down my face, snot dripping out of my nose and antibiotics coursing through my blood, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I received a phone call from the guy I have been seeing and all these thoughts, along with some of my ever present thoughts on life, death, suicide and depression seemed to be circling my puny little head and the conversation started heating up. Now this is a boy who loves cars and women, he cannot even think of the idea of being vulnerable. Here I am, the most vulnerable creature I know, standing stark naked waiting for someone to join me and dance with me. Through the years I have found companions who seem to be the right fit, but later prove to be illusions, either they have deluded me or I have deluded myself. Because of these recurring failures in the sphere of relationships, not only romantic but simple friendships as well, I decided that it is better for me to be alone. Adding to this idea was my extreme sense of shame. I am ashamed of many things I have done and that have been done to me. There are certain times I can stop it from showing but slowly I start exposing myself, I open the book and usually when I do they shut it back up. No one wants to read such an unhappy story. People want rainbows, butterflies, hope and unicorns. I offer them dark and dingy alleyways with homeless men sleeping in their own pee.

I don't know the point of this post. I don't know the point of many posts that I write. But here it is.

I write this, knowing that I have to wake up in bout 4.5 hours, get ready for college and write a freaking assignment in class which I am sure to not do well on.

Life.

I wrote a sonnet, titled "What's up?"

You came into my life like rain falling,
You drenched me to the bone and asked, "What's up?"
I walked to the light and heard you calling.
I looked straight at your eyes with doubt, "A cup."
With the sweet nectar you poured me a drink.
You get to your feet and, "Would you like a dance?"
We sat across the bar, I boldly wink.
I said, "Yes, not wanting to miss the chance.
After a few verses, I sat back down.
Your faces became the sun, your red eyes roared.
But then on your face was plastered a frown.
I lost my wits, and then outside it poured.
Your drizzle turned into a hurricane.
My heart, my body both drowning in pain. 

Mandatory reading.

Why is it that I am unable to express my feelings as clearly as other people seem to be able to? I find these posts all scattered around the internet and when I read them I always think "Wow, that is exactly what I feel like! Why can't I put words together to say the same thing?"
After which I fall into a swamp of unhappiness, self pity and disappointment.
When I do have these strokes of brilliance, or what I think are strokes of brilliance, they always seem pale in comparison. Like I am stealing sentences and using the synonyms option on word to change the words so it sounds different.

What did the person who formed the first sentence feel like?

I wish I could feel that way.

So, this was actually a dream I had. I appropriated it into the written word.

She walked into the dark room, her surroundings encased in the color of the void, black. As she reached the middle of the room her eyes fell on an object lying on the cold, stone ground. She walked closer and her eyes opened wide, a dull buzzing filled her ears and she stopped in her tracks. It took her mind a full minute to register what was in front of her eyes.

A body.

Her body?

She couldn't tell who it was, but she knew it was a woman. The face heavily disfigured. Her heart started beating faster and faster. The buzzing replaced in her ears with a stead 'thump, thump, thump.'

She took a step forward, intrigued and terrified.

Then very meager lighting she had to guide her disappeared. And the scream started.

I am a body. I feel trapped. Everything burns. I can see and I can feel but I cannot move. I can feel my blood spilling out of me, and yet I do not die. I wish I could understand what is happening. I wish I could ask for help.

Who is this girl, she looks like I did when I was more.

If only I could scream. I want to put my hand up and ask her to care for me. I want to use my voice and express the agony I am feeling.

At least I can see. At least I can hope. But how much longer will I have to suffer.

I would rather just end it all.

I would rather just die.

Aren't I already dead? 

Why have the lights gone out? And what is that noise? Is it coming from me or her?

The scream subsides and the lights flicker back on. 

Some words.

So we are going to study the poetry of John Donne this semester. And I was just thinking the other day, because sometimes my brain takes long holidays and I stop thinking. And these words seemed to form some sentences. I don't know.

Drink the nectar.
Sweet, sour, tangy, spicy.
Allow each drop to slip down your throat.
Give your tongue the pleasure of enjoying each flavor.
Savor the richness.
Feel the tingly sensation on your lips.
An ambrosia that will never satisfy.
A liquid that will create a burning desire.
Drink the nectar.


It's been a long time. I should start writing again. 

Stories.

   We are all just stories. Stories that are happy, stories that are sad. Stories that are so dull you fall asleep, and stories that keep you at the edge of your seat. Stories that keep you up at night and stories that take you to your dreams.  Stories that make you love, and stories that make you hate. You learn from some stories and others are for pure comic relief. Some stories you can share, and others you keep to yourself. Some stories end before they begin, and some stories start and are fated to remain incomplete. With time your story grows, there are plot twists, you see your characters develop, some come and some go. You have the antagonist and protagonist of your story within yourself. You have the trusty side-kicks and the monsters underneath your bed. There are some stories you forget and some stories that are so vivid you never can get it out of your head, your imagination soars with the words that string the tale together. Other stories you recollect, bit by bit, each detail recovered with time. Then there are the stories you wish you could forget, those stories that haunt your every waking moment. The stories that scar you and that make you wish you had never been born. The potential a story has, a story that you know would be great but is cut short because some force out there just doesn't want you to have that happy ending. There are the stories from your past and the stories yet to be lived. Those are the ones you need to watch out for. You never know if you'll have a happily ever after, or something else. But right now you have a to be continued. You have the opportunity to change your story with the next installment. Look back at the old ones, but don't get caught up, look forward to the new ones but don't be too enchanted. Your story is happening right now. This is your story. Your story. 

Whose voice is this?

There are times when I read my writing and I wonder if this is actually my voice? I read it and I don't hear myself but another person. I read it and I imagine myself saying the things I have written out loud and it all sounds so alien and strange. While I write everything sounds natural, and yet when I look back at it, even now, milliseconds after writing, it does not sound right.
Why?
Why.

Whose voice is it?

We Belong Together

"So, tell me, how has work been treating you?"
"Oh, work is fine..have too much to do, too little time. I guess being sick has given me some time off. I haven't exactly enjoyed it but I needed the down time."
"That's nice, I suppose. But I am glad you are feeling better. So...hey, that's a nice song. I wonder what its called."
"Yeah, I like it. Let me figure out what it is. I'll just Shazam it."
"Cool, that sounds good."
"So what have you been up to?"
"Not much, been spending time at home. Family time, I missed everyone so much while I was gone. So what is the song called?"
"Uhm, let me check."
"Sure."
"We Belong Together."
"What?"
"The song, it's called, We Belong Together."
"Oh."
"Yeah."

Those Thoughts.

You have all these thoughts swimming in your brain. You try to make sense of them but the instant you try and hold on they wriggle away and you are forced to chase them. These abstracts thoughts that make you pull your hair out, that make you smile when no one can see you, that bring tears to your eyes. Those thoughts that won't go away no matter how much you think about them. Those thoughts that you put to paper and don't look the same, they look superficial and faker than a plastic Barbie doll. Those thoughts that make you, those thoughts that break you. The thought you can't share and the thoughts you blurt out in the middle of the night when your sister is already half asleep. And you wonder, are you the only one with those thoughts? Are you the only one who has acted on those thoughts? You start to wonder if those thoughts are real and when they get translated into emotions you wonder if the emotions are real. You file the thoughts in separate areas of your brain and pick them up when you're alone, in the dark wishing the storm would pass. Those thoughts that haunt you even when you're outside and the sun shines on your skin like honey.
Those thoughts. Those thoughts. Those thoughts.