Going to sleep is hard and waking up the next day is even harder.
“Why? What is the reason behind all this?”
“Are you under some sort of pressure?”
“I don’t know!” is the reply I always give.
How can I describe my inability to breathe?
It feels as if there’s a mountain on my chest, but at the same time, I don’t really care about anything.
I can’t feel anything.
I want to scream, but I can’t.
Do I cry? Yes, I cry. But why? I don’t know.
It’s easy for people to assume that I’m the one that caused this, and that I brought this on myself.
Who ever said I wanted to be like this?
To be scared of the unknown, to be in pain for no reason.
My mind does not stop racing. I wish I could at least have some peace and quiet inside my own head.
That’s why I sleep: I escape, I forget, and the world quiets down for a little while.
But even that is hard.
It’s a struggle to go to sleep when you’re depressed.
And waking up is even more of a struggle.
But at least you don’t have to explain what’s wrong when you’re asleep.
And you don’t have to listen to advice you already know.
And there’s no one to blame you for not being okay when it’s out of your hands.