i am not real , but you were

9

and I feel like the sadness is so deeply rooted in me now, that I don't even have to cry about it anymore. it just swells up inside and throbs along with my heart, in unison, as though the two need each other to survive. I do not know who I was before this. I was 12 years old, that was almost 8 years ago. I am 19 years ago, and I have been sad for 8 years. when I type these sorts of things out, my anxiety rises. because I know I have so much to say but yet the words don't come out right and it so frustrating because why can't I just think about what the actually words are in my head? I don't actually know what they are and it's frustrating and everything is frustrating. and no I'm not happy, and no I don't know how I got here, and I don't know what to do anymore.

and I just can't BELIEVE my anxiety over everything and I am unstable and I can't move or think about my head is a mess I am a mess nothing is okay I'm not okay I can't think