stop, don’t you get it? i dont want to be with you. ive told you to your face, but here you are. i dont want you. i dont feel anything for you. im sorry, but i dont. stop looking at me like that. and dont wait for me, either. if i wanted you, then id have you.
im on both sides.
i guess it’s human nature to be comforted by a likeminded person. we all innately want to feel like we fit in, so when someone “gets” “it,” then we feel at ease – at home, maybe. and i agree with that, but while it feels comfortable, i desperately want to think unlike anyone and everyone else. i want to be singular – not better necessarily, just different. i want people to hear me and think “wow, this girl is something else.” but thats a lonely life.
i broke nicholas’ heart. and i smiled when i did it because im a sick fuck who knows if i sever a relationship – if it ends under my knife on my terms – then i cant be hurt. id much rather the blood on my hands than spewing out of my heart. sorry, nick.
anxiety is control. anxiety is lack thereof. anxiety is exhaustion from being the glue of the household – the crafting of personal questions i dont listen for the answer to/the seemingly effortless way i highlight common connections between roommates/the forced smile i bear when working to improve my broken relationships with those in the house. anxiety is the unbridled fear and racing heart when your roomates joke around without you. do they need me at all? i work so hard. im never appreciated. do they notice my efforts? do they see through my forced façade: peacemaker? my heart is racing and thumping and my blood pounding and soaring. im pulsing. im nauseous. anxiety is this and every carefully crafted notch inbetween. anxiety is controlling, consuming. anxiety is this. im going to be sick.