It hits me all at once.

All consuming. Quickening my heart….stealing my very air.

The world seems dark–a scary place where I am forced to be all of the things that I hate–a silent, aching girl, who cannot say the words to explain where the pain is coming from.

To protect herself, this girl wraps her arms around herself, burying her head in her knees–semi-effectively shutting the world out.

But it is still not safe.

For, within her very own head, a mighty war rages. There are no nice words. No comforting phrases. Only despair and criticism–How could you let yourself get here? You are so stupid!! What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you have to be so sensitive? Why do you have to mess up everything!?

The words? The words are what the girl knows. They are words that she grew up hearing–ones that were yelled at her in different ways, in different tones, by different people–and one constant person–pretty much every day of her young life.

They are words that are wired into her being. Words that she believes, sub-consciously, even when she knows that she should not.

Occasionally, the girl can avoid the words–the fear–the darkness. She can convince herself that she is better–she is a confident, strong woman. She could, maybe someday…be happy. Loved.

But that? That is a facade. A trick of hope, pulled quickly out from underneath her, over and over again.

…Because when that fear comes back? So do all of the things the girl hates.

The worst part of it all?

There is the girl, arms wrapped around her knees, sobbing at life. At the fear of the unknown. At the fear of be left. At the fear of never being good enough for anyone to love.

There I am…alone. The girl..ME..we are tired of feeling alone.

We want to be loved. We want to be cared for. We want to be thought of. We want to mean something.

…Until I can figure that out, I am, over and over, hit by the fear. Panic. Anxiety. Worry. Desperation.

It all exists within me, lurking and waiting to attack.

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