In the depths of my stomach it dwells. A heavy, dark feeling. Relentless it waits until I’m unassuming. It grows. Consuming my every thought. All I can think of is this unnerving, nauseas feeling creeping over my soul. My heart begins to quicken, my chest tightens. Breathing faster I can’t seem to catch my breath. My hands begin to shake like leaves on an autumn tree. Wanting to cry, to release this pent up emotion but I can’t even muster up enough to cry. I’m paralyzed in my own prison, my body keeps me bound. Everyone is looking and they can all see the fear written all over my face. My heart beats faster, my breathing more labored. My stomach, I wish I could just remove it because the pain is so deep. You look at me and see nothing but a mess. I don’t blame you that you want to turn away. I want to hide. Under the safety of my blankets in the darkness of the room. Shut out all the sounds and let out a pain stricken scream. But I’m voiceless. It has taken everything from me. My voice and my ability to cry. To let it out. The visions of cutting myself are ever so clear but yet I can’t. The fear of what people would think … the aftermath of the scar keeps me from the expression. But now I know why people are driven to hurt themselves. I just want to gain control again and the only way I can think how is to release this overwhelming need to scream and cry and throw a tantrum. I want to vomit, I really do. But nothing comes, I’m empty. My stomach aches from the acid waves. Everyone expects normality out of me and I don’t want to be rejected so I push on. I wake up every morning, I get dressed and drive to work. I sit in lines of traffic and stress that I’m going to be late because I can’t disappoint anyone. All the stresses are overwhelming and no one sees it. They secretly hate me, or at least that’s what I let myself believe. I’m not good enough for any of this but yet I try. No matter the pain and how much it hurts to put on this smile everyday I do it because that’s what is expected. I hate myself for it but I’d hate myself if I didn’t. This endless internal battle will tear me down. Tears are welling up now. I think I’m caving in. The anxiety is too much. My chest so tight I’m afraid it might break open. But then would that be so bad? Let all the pressure out. Like a balloon that’s been overfilled. I don’t know how much more I can take.