Sarcasm Central

Journal Entry – Cut from Angst

I tried to go to a party tonight at Jared’s house.  I couldn’t do it.  At first I couldn’t leave the house, my stomach was knotted  tight and I was breathing in little shallow gasps,  I didn’t want to leave the safety of the bathroom.  Finally, somehow, I got myself out the door and into my car, legs so wobbly I could barely walk.  Talk about panic every second.  I was shaking, hard, and I could barely turn the key in the ignition.  Then I was driving and the tears started again, ruining my makeup.  Uncontrollable.  Sobs, shaking, queasy stomach, fear of throwing up or worse, heart throbbing a mile a minute.  Thoughts of self pity, self hatred all mixed up together.  My body is out of my control.  It does what it wants, when it wants and it scares me.

 I almost turned back 100 times on the drive to his house.  Then once I got there I couldn’t leave the car.  My fear of the unknown, my fear of embarrassment and irrational thoughts were mind blowing.  I’m one sick motherfucker in more ways than one.  I kept trying to get out of the car, but my legs were so weak, the shaking so bad, my stomach clenched and aching,  that I had to sit back down.  Suddenly my car was the safety, his apartment was hell.  I couldn’t go inside. 

Do you know what I did?  I’ve finally fallen over the edge of sanity.  The fear finally has control because I drove home.  I left.  I turned on Pink Floyd and was asked “Is there anybody out there?”  No.  No one is out there because I am all alone with the monster.  My disease is in control of my mind now.  I want to die. I can’t live this way.  I can’t leave the house.  I’m way past normal now.  And sometimes I wonder who I would be if I didn’t have this goddamn fucking curse hanging over me.  But I can’t even imagine it.  I can’t imagine my life not tinged with fear.  I’m finally lost.  I went up to my room and I cried so much that I simply can’t cry anymore.  My eyes are dry now, red and parched and I know the truth, this can’t go on.  I need help. I don’t know what to do.  I don’t want to admit this to anyone.  If only I can get through the last few weeks of school then maybe I’ll do something about it.  Maybe I’ll finally admit that this is too much for me to handle alone.  I hate to admit it though.  I hate to admit personal failure.  What other option do I have?

About Victoria Sawyer (283 Articles)
Victoria Sawyer is a blogger, author, graphic designer, social media enthusiast and mental health advocate. Shocking, honest, sarcastic and humorous, Victoria aims to make readers feel tangible emotions and physical sensations through writing that brings you into the mind and body of someone suffering from panic attacks, anxiety and this strange often darkly hilarious thing we call life. She published her novel Angst in 2013, which realistically and often graphically depicts life with mental illness. Along with crazy blogging, Victoria enjoys reading historical novels, playing with her naughty cats, engaging in rants and metaphysical existential meltdowns and using punctuation to excess in everything she writes.

Step right up, it's about to get crazy in the hizzy

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