I’ve been having panic attacks again 

I think it’s been coming for a while. 

It was like a hurricane.

There was the calm… I saw the waves slowly rush in but I didn’t notice they were so soft because the tide was being pulled back.

I thought the waves were so pretty as the pulled farther away.

I was handling things well, I thought.

Grief, stress, difficult relationships are okay.

Feeling my friends pull away was okay

Fearing they were speaking of my short comings in secret was okay

Knowing I wasn’t invited to spend time with them was fine

That feeling of always failing in romance was fine

Thinking I’m failing as an aunt, a sister, a writer, a friend, a person was fine

Things piled up

Brick my brick

I’ve built the wall

I think I was preparing for the tide to come in

I built walls so high

I hoped the tide wouldn’t touch me behind them

I hoped the storm— the raging winds and violent waves would stay behind that wall

It wouldn’t touch me behind the wall

I told myself it was a skill.

A talent 

A gift that I am okay with being alone

It’s okay that life rushes in for everyone and I  stay still

It’s okay that I am an island in my own feelings

I told myself no one would want to join me here

I told myself I’d be a burden

I told myself that no one wanted to see me cry again

People only want sunshine on this island. They don’t want the hurricane 

The hurricane is dangerous and violet. Its out of control 

Who would want to pick up the pieces when the storm rolls in?

I think I knew it was coming.

I built my walls up high and hoped the winds, the rain, the waves would stay away from this island.

This island needs to be full of sunshine because if it’s not, no one would stay. No one would want to visit. No one would want to care if things aren’t in perfect condition 

But the storm is coming, I can see the waves rolling in. I can see the raging winds.

As tall as these walls are…

They aren’t all that strong

Because I know, deep down.

I wish they weren’t there

I wish someone would help me.

I wish I wasn’t an island.

I wish I had a hand to hold because I am scared. 

I am scared that this storm will hurt.

I’m scared I’d feel this lonely forever.

I’m scared that no one would ever like me when I’m not okay

I’m scared that being vulnerable and open will only hurt more.

I don’t know if I can handle that.

But I don’t think I can handle this storm alone either.

(Feeling overwhelmed at work, I figured I’d write something)