It’s an odd feeling being on the brink of reality. Being enclosed in a soft bubble that can pop at any moment. Surrounded by the drowning screams of your own reality. It’s safe in the bubble, so I don’t like to move.
That what happens when I start to feel normal. I almost freeze up like any move is going to shatter this calm that has settled over me.
Often times I’ll sit in my covers and bathe in it. Wondering how long it will truly last and if it’s real. Usually it isn’t.
I can feel the anxiety swell like an air bubble in molten lead, ready to scathe any piece of flesh it can reach when it pops.
I can feel the depression surround me, waiting for my oxygen to give out so I’m drowning once again.
These demons that I deal with are still so present. But their mouths bleed trying to bite and latch on, because something has sewn their mouths shut.
This newly found strength isn’t my own. This is another reason I didn’t want to take medicine. I wanted this victory to be mine.
But these demons are so daunting, I guess I can’t do it alone.