Obsessed

The Worst Type of Pain.

Song for this chapter: Pity Party by Melanie Martinez

Trigger warning- please do not read if you are easily triggered.
Remember I love you random citizen!

The Worse Type of Pain...

Hospital visits are the worst.
I hate them.
Seeing your dying or seriously ill relative or friend, never knowing if it will be the last time you see them.
With the rest of your family by your side.

Crying.
Mourning.

However what's worse is if you're the one being visited. Your family surrounding your pale lifeless body. Blaming themselves for what happened when in reality you're the one to blame. Your life hanging by a thread as the heart monitor begins to slow down.

Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Gone.

The worst kind of pain is not what you inflict on yourself, it's the pain you inflict on others.

That day was the worst.
The day my inner demons took over.
If I could, I would go back and persuade myself not to.
I only made matters worse.
Forever trapped.
Not just mentally, but physically too.

White surrounding me.
The walls.
The floor.
The bed.
Everything.
Pure white.

I thought I was dead.
But sadly, luck wasn't on my side.
I has woken up.
Again.

I feel so selfish sometimes.
People are praying to stay alive, and here I am, wasting my life, throwing it away.
Like it's worthless.
Like I'm worthless.

I've never been a bad child.
I've got good grades at school.
Never lied, only when necessary. However I have always been the quiet, shy, type of child. The anxiety never helped either.
Every time I went outside to social events I always felt like I was either going to throw up or pass out.
Every time I told my mum she either said I was trying to get attention or get out of having to go.
Sadly it was neither of the two options; I genuinely did have bad social anxiety. I never really got used to it or got better, more like I learnt to put up with the feeling.
After a few years it started to get worse, up until the point where I didn't even want to go to school anymore. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't shake the feeling. Up until the age of fifteen. It was the first time I actually had the idea of anxiety suggested to me. I was at one of my frequent doctors' visits when he suggested it. Then everything started to make sense. However at this point I didn't really need the medication he prescribed to me because I had learnt to put up with the feeling.
Being able to leave the house for the first time without my usual symptoms was a relief. It made me feel free, I was actually happy for a while. I felt invisible.
But the feeling didn't last; as soon as the medication wore off I went back to my usual depressed self.
But my depression is another story.
I haven't always been this way. I was happy once, it was a while ago, before all of the pressures of life started to burden me.
The anxiety started when I was 12 years old.
This was the time I started middle school.
When I realised how much I hated big crowds, as I came from a small primary school of about 60 students I wasn't used to spaces crowded with lots of people.
I think that it is easy to say that middle school was some of the worst years of my life. This was when I was trying to live up to the expectations held above my head.
Soon to realise that I didn't need to do things to please others, as long as I was happy that's all I care about now.
Now that I have finally learnt to accept my condition.

I want to follow my dreams:
build a future I want.

Do I have the courage to do that though?

No.

A/N

I really badly need to do graphics revision guys.
I'm gonna fail my exam tomorrow.

Vote, comment, blah, blah, blah...

Love, newts_fangirlxx

Edited- 20/06/16