headcase

I’ve just had a panic attack. Below is my attempt to record it as it happened. I’ve only edited it very slightly to improve the worst of the grammar and the spelling – the sentiments and sense (if it can be called sense) and flow remain the same.

Out of nowhere the chest tightens and the thoughts flood in. There is no one to talk to. I’m so alone. I want to tell someone how I feel and I can’t. They’ve all gone now. I’m useless. I can’t breathe. Head aches, back aches, shoulder muscles constrict and send shooting pains across my back and up through my neck. Panic rises physically inside.

People are outside. My door is locked but I’m scared they’ll come in. I don’t know who they are. I don’t know what they want. I watch the door handle, waiting for it to move. I don’t know them. I wish they’d go away. I need them to go away.

I’m shaking, the tears are hot but don’t help. Can’t focus. I pick at the cuts on my stomach and arm and the urge to add more is strong.

I wish I had someone to contact, someone to talk to. But I’ve driven them all away. There is no one. I wish someone could help me. I need someone to help me. This is too much alone. The crying won’t stop. The loneliness floods in with the panic and the tears and the urges to hurt myself.

I’m on edge all the time, so tired, I wish I could sleep. So tired. So useless. I hate myself. I’m sick of myself. Fed up. With me. With everything.

 

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