━━━━ kuroo tetsurou.
it's funny how the world works sometimes; one minute you are at your peak, the next you feel as if everything was so heavy you couldn't breathe. it's funny how you want to be alone yet someone wanted you to join their world. it'...
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TW // PANIC ATTACKS.
It was nearing midnight and a girl of eternal sunshine and beautiful winter was wide awake while the entire world slept on. On her rumpled covers were blots of tears beside clenched fists. Her chest was constricted, her breaths coming out of ragged pants. Never wanting her mother to be awake, she tried decreasing the noise of her sobs.
It was one of those days where her entire being was drowning in an abysmal melancholy that she had no choice but to be submerged further down into her chaotic mindset. With all her efforts, she tried freeing herself from the shackles and chains that made her sink down like peridotite but the more time she remained underwater, the more time her thoughts plague her unconscious. It was always like this every other day and yet she never knew how it triggered itself. Her day had been alright, nothing had set her off and throughout the entire afternoon, she had been bottling up her tears and sobs. It was such a relief to know that there wasn't any afternoon practice for the volleyball club so she immediately dashed to the train station, feeling so caved in.
It was exhausting.
All of it is exhausting — her trying her best and yet all of it was never enough in the eyes of others, her fitting herself in different circles until she couldn't distinguish who she was anymore, her shouldering the amount of workload their teacher placed on their already towering pile, and her never knowing where she will place herself in a few years. It felt like a ticking bomb in her chest, ready to explode with all of the raging emotions she kept to herself — the misery, envy, loathing, and condemning. She wanted to seclude herself or let herself be surrounded with nothing but miles and miles of emptiness and just yell her heart out, to unload everything and unleash herself from her makeshift birdcage.
Her breathing exercises never work.
They had never worked since day one.
Her own safe space, she tried envisioning it. But the more she strained and drilled her mind into picturing it, she always ended up painting something blank in her head right when she needed it the most. She desperately fought hard against the restraints holding her down, only to find nothing of the tendrils of lavender and coffee and the worn-out books and the night sky that she always found comforting. She wanted herself to laugh freely, to be happier tomorrow, and to assure herself that there are better days ahead. But how could she experience that when she always blamed herself, when she never even loved herself?
