As much as I like to think that I am an independent person, I’m not anymore.

I depend on people close to me. They keep me sane and make me smile. There’s a new happiness when I’m around them, one that I cannot feel once they’ve left my door step.

And it scares me because I don’t know how to deal with it yet.

“She was like the moon; part of her was always hidden away.” – Dia Reeves

Shadows cast down on my sunny day and I am left with only a realization, for now I am hidden. But I do not want to be. For your sake, I will stand away from the sunlight casting down on everyone else but me and hopefully my day in the sun will come.

Now the photos I take will collect on my phone, staying in an album for weeks until they become a distant memory. I’ll avoid those words, not wishing to know the answer, or rather, scared of finding out a truth. The worry can hang over me like a cloud, threatening to spill at any moment, but waiting until I am in the comfort of my own bed.

I want nothing more for my day to come, my sunlight to shine and bring out my freckles along with a genuine smile I’ll get to wear the entire day. A day where you ask me to step into the light and my photos will be everywhere.

But here I will stay, curtians drawn and tucked into a corner. You cannot destroy something in a matter of weeks, just like you can’t build something up so quickly either, because the traces will betray you.

 

I pick myself up from the floor again. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my eyes look lifeless and my mind is buzzing and telling me how worthless I feel. But, I get up and avoid myself.

My bed caresses me, begging me not to leave it, and some days I don’t. I curl up in the safety of my covers and pull a pillow over my head to block out the words swirling inside of my head. I allow myself to drift off to sleep and I’ll sleep for fourteen hours straight until I find the strength to drag myself out.

My eyes are glued to my television screen as tears stream down, watching my comfort show, Friends and mouthing the words as the episodes play. And when I’ve completed the series for the forty-second time, I’ll restart it all over again.

My mouth remains sealed in fear of losing what was left of the people surrouonding me. I allow myself to drown in sorrow, over and over again, until I finally gasp for air because, somehow, my mind convinced me that crying on my own is better than staining a shirt.

My ears refuse to listen to those trying to help me because my thoughts are louder than any familar voice.

And again, I fight and I fight with myself because I don’t wanna be you anymore.

I choose to listen to people I love, telling me I’m beautiful and that I matter to them. I choose to use my eyes to capture adventures in life with the people I love. I choose to use my lips to press against yours and express the happiness that I am feeling. And I wanna be me, so I will be.

So, I am awake and it is nearing two AM. I’m soothed by the sounds flowing from my open window beside my bed, a train in the distance and the sound of the wind hitting the leaves causing them to sway back and forth. I cannot sleep.

This is nothing new. It has always been me, my laptop, and the moonlight flooding my bedroom casting shadows where they are needed. My mind is wandering into deep territory and my eyes begin to flood with tears once again.

I’ve always found comfort in the night. It was something about the way the moon peered over the clouds, how silent the house got when everyone but myself, was asleep, and it gave me time to myself. However, now I fear that I have grown too accustomed to being alone. When I am not at home, I crave to be in my bed, buried in a heep of blankets, only wearing a large t-shirt that is not  my own, and watching Friends in the background.

I’ve started to fear being alone with myself, I don’t like when I become her anymore. Being home alone is starting to feel like a cry for help, for someone, anyone, to come and releave me from attacking myself emotionally.

And all this is is a little insomnia, that’s insanity.

Sometimes, I still feel like I’m back in that apartment. Where I’m gasping for breath, eyes burning with tears, head throbbing from the sound of my own whimper, just searching for a warm hand to hold and turning up empty handed.

And even though, Michigan is 800 miles away from me, within a moment, my head is dragged right back into the small space with four white walls, alone.

Everywhere I turn here, there is a hand to hold. A friend, a family member, a boyfriend and I choose to sit in the dark and attempt to control my breathing repeating the same thing over and over again, “you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.”

And maybe you’re thinking, “Yeah, this is a sign of insanity.” But no, it’s a sign of crippling loneliness for so long, I can’t remember what it’s like to feel there in the moment anymore. Because I watch it flee before my eyes and disappear into air and I follow it.

It’s a sign of depression and anxiety, and you learn to make friends with your demons and call them by name until it’s strange not to want to hate yourself and happiness is a fantasy never achieved.

I’d like to forgive myself, to lock the demons away, to truly like myself for who I am and not put myself down for who I can never be, I want to not feel constant worry over things that will be alright, and I want to allow myself to feel happiness.

And I’ve made progress, I can look at myself in the mirror now, I can talk to people without crying, I can go into public without a mental break down, I can allow myself to become attached to someone new, and I’ve learned to cope with my every day fears and worries.

Yet, I’m not where I want to be and I’m struggling to make it to that mountain and see the sun set. To sit there and relax in its warmth with the company of a loved one without a single care inside of my head.

I’m still climbing and being knocked down.

All I know is that the sun hasn’t set yet and I’ve got plenty of ground to cover.