The world does not see me beating my fist against my forehead trying to numb my mind, to silence my thoughts, a cracked record repeating, “stupiddumbstupiddumb.” A young child filled with fear of her creator, I died with the first bloody thrust of the maker’s tool. Emotions muted by thick black clouds of depression nothing can penetrate the shell around my heart. I remain as a shameful stain poisoning the soul of this broken and scarred body.
My anxiety feels like molten lava poured over an iceberg inside my skull. My brain boils and bubbles up flashes of painful memories before transforming my thoughts into a reddish-black sludge. Taking deep breaths and holding them as long as I can before my vision goes gray against the pressure building inside. I am defeated. I am not enough and never will be.