I've never felt as lonely, confused and depressed in my entire life.

It sounds ridiculous doesn't it? Aren't depressed people supposed to be to depressed to see that they are depressed? Being capable of recognizing one's condition does not make one exempt from it, however.

I can't sleep at night. I'm absolutely wrecked by bouts of crying for no reason. I probably know the reason, but it hurts too much to say it out loud. Saying it means acknowledging it, and acknowledging it makes it real and thus terrifying.

I can't eat. I'm hungry all the time but I don't want to eat. I can feel acid burning my stomach and I still don't want to eat. I do try forcing myself to eat, but everything tastes horrible and forced.

I'm taken over by fits of rage and negativity. I've always managed to swallow my rage and let it pass. But lately, I find myself unable to contain it any more, ranting about it to the nearest person and then feeling guilty about it for talking shit about people (though the rage made it seem perfectly justified at the time.)

After the guilt comes something even worse - realization that I really hate what the person has done. Realization that I was not exaggerating my feelings when it happened - it really upset me and I have been controlling it too long to keep it inside any longer.

So why do I still guilty for expressing myself?

I'm thrown into an endless cycle of guilt and justification.

I don't want to blame people for the way I'm acting. I accept any and all responsibility. The feelings I'm feeling now I cannot explain, but let me assure you they are intense.

I had a panic attack a few days ago.

I was embarrassed about it and didn't really want to talk about it. However, I confided in a couple of friends because I felt so shaken by the experience.

I was met with seemingly forced concern and apathy.

Perhaps it was my messed up feelings at the time that made me interpret their concern as false displays of care, but I honestly feel like they were too afraid to discuss it with me.

We just aren't good enough friends.

Well, I'll talk about it now. You don't have to listen but I'll say it anyway.
It started with difficulty breathing, which I interpreted as a recurrence of my childhood asthma.

I calmed down and dismissed it as a freak incident.

About an hour later, my heart seized up and I felt sharp pains in my chest, neck and jaw.
For some reason, I thought my heart was failing me. To distract myself from the pain and difficulty in breathing, I googled heart attacks and panic attacks.

As I read the articles, I concluded correctly that I was experiencing a panic attack.

It feels fucking stupid, but I KNEW what was happening, yet my brain was somehow telling me I was going to die.

I was going to die in under an hour and I can't do anything about it.

My fingers went half numb and the trembling started. It started in my fingers and gradually spread to my whole body. I started crying hysterically and hyperventilating.

I sat there and cried for a good ten minutes or so. I was filled with terror. Every memory of every one I knew and loved dying came flying back. My uncle's lungs gurgling their dying breaths as they disconnected him from the breathing machine. My other uncle dying in surgery. Sedated, never to know he was never going to wake up again. My dad, white and lifeless on the gurney in the hospital. Kissing him for the first time in a long time, kissing him for the last time. On the forehead. It was already cold.

And suddenly, literally mid-sob, the feeling of utter terror vanished. And it was replaced by a terrible feeling of emptiness.

I stopped crying.

I felt angry. I felt angry for losing control of my body. It felt like a foreign form to me now. It betrayed me by defying logic and reason and collapsing into a state of pure helplessness.

I am still angry.

And I am sad.

I am confused.

People who can help me already have too many problems of their own or simply don't care.
I wish I could say I'm strong and tough and can get better by myself, but this was probably a long time in the making, looking at the flashbacks that I've had.

If I had a cracking point, I probably just hit it.
It feels like my life changed; I feel so different from before.

Yet, for everyone else, the world continues to turn. I feel like I'm the only one that got thrown off out of orbit unnoticed.

From everyone else's reaction, my mind tells me that this is nothing, perhaps a severe case of PMS, also known as PMDD.

But inside, I know better.

I know I've been shutting myself off from intense feelings for a very long time. I think it's time to start letting them in again, for the sake of my own sanity.

I'm terrified by my new-found apathy. Besides hate and scorn, I can barely feel anything else.
I feel like the past 5 years of my life have been wasted. I push people away. Even the one I grew to love...my feelings for them have vanished, crawled deep into the recesses of my heart where I keep the rest of my feelings locked up. I just want to cry and cry and let it all out.

I'm afraid to love because I'm afraid to lose.

The sicker and more aimless he becomes, the more I push him away from me.
How can I abandon him in the time when needs me most?
Perhaps I'm selfish in doing so, but I feel obliged to see him through this difficult time. But what if the difficulty never ends? What if I spend the rest of my life being the life raft and let the resentment and fear grow like a plague?

Fear of losing him. Resentment for letting me feel that fear which I tried to banish for so long.

Maybe some people have the urge to slap me and ask me to wake up the fuck up and stop being a depressing little bitch. Maybe I brought this all upon myself. Maybe they're right.

But until I'm sure they are, I can only assume otherwise.

Please give me the strength to recover by myself. I will never believe myself to be an independent being any more unless I succeed in doing so.

I love you. Believe me - somewhere deep down in my heart, there will always be a place for you.

But for now, I have to sort out all these un-addressed feelings and fears that have gone unchecked for too long. For my sake.

For our sake.

To the friends: I've finally come to the realization that the hate I feel for all of you never being able to really, really talk to me stemmed from the moment none of my friends showed up for my dad's funeral. It's a resentment I still carry with me like an anchor. Sure, a bunch of them texted me, saying how sorry they were. BUT HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST? You left me so alone, with no channel to vent my grief that I didn't shed a tear for my father's death until YEARS later. No one ever asked if I wanted to talk about it. Am I ok? OF COURSE I'M NOT FUCKING OKAY.

...

Of course, all those friends are now gone. I don't trust them any more than I'd trust a starving thief with unattended food.

All the friends I made after that carried the weight of the crimes of my former friends. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. I have never fully trusted a single person since then.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I have never given any of you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry I always treated everyone with suspicion. I'm sorry I always pick out the worst part of everyone to keep in my memory.

I feel better now, as blogging has always made me feel. Putting my feelings into words, I've finally sorted out many jumbled signals in my head. It's now clear where my problems lie, and I didn't even need a therapist.

Sigh.

Now all I have to do is be a champion and actually deal with it.

I'm a fucking adult this year so I will. I WILL.
I will never let the past get the better of me.

...I'm too strong for that.

Fuck you, emotions. I'll beat the fuck out of you.
Watch me.