The glass coffin.

This year, I have continued to progress myself as a person by making all the right choices, taken care of myself, done good towards other people, kept to a stable routine and stuck to my meds on time – and in return – life has finally decided to give me a break. It’s been heaven to have vacated in, dare me say, a little bit of normaility.

The past week or two, I have been most aware to the past slowly and steadily seeping in and wrapping it’s torture around my chest and clamping down.

This month I have had to face the fact that my work contract is about to end, finances are pushing hard against me and I have been forced in to the harsh realisation of my blurred future that i’m about to venture towards. I’ve always had the fear of the unknown, whenever life heads in to uncertainty, and in the past, it has demonstrated time and time again that instability seems to be my greatest weakness.

My sanity has been tested this week. I feel like I can’t breathe. Anxiety’s hands are tightly gripping on to my chest, and whatever I seem to do, they are not letting go. This has become something that’s been physical for me. My shallow breathing has become the norm over the days, and its getting harder to breathe hour after hour. It hurts. It’s making me panic. It’s torture. I feel heavy.

Not only that. I feel like my body is trapped in a tight glass coffin, like snow white, with my oxygen level slowly diminishing making it harder and harder to breathe. From the outside i look in peace. But it’s so real in here, and i’m steadily killing myself with my own breathing. The outside world is muffled, I feel no connection with it or others, like my ability to feel emotion has been cut off. I’m numb to the outside, only i’m not numb here and this emotional snowstorm is turning in to chaos with every breath I take. I can’t reach out to the real world, I can’t socialise I can only pretend, like a puppet on strings.

I’m suffocating.

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