The Comfort Beneath My Covers

I used to feel as if I'd found a passion suiting me for the rest of my life. I felt I had a meaning. Time sped past me, yet I was living in the present. I grew with others around me and I was a force in each space I walked into. I spoke to others. They noticed me and they valued me. It was as if my words were shifting winds and could potentially move mountains and make a difference. On these days I felt whole, I felt centered. The taste of my anxiety was only a bitter remembrance on the tip of my tongue. I had no worries. I was careful, yet carefree. I was thirsting for more, yet I felt complete.

I haven't felt this way for a while now.

Now the days feel meaningless. As if I'm a ghost just passing through. Like every act of my being goes unnoticed. If I disappeared off the face of this earth, no one would notice a difference, and if they did they would not act on it. I panic a lot now. Breathing heavily, my eyes filling with tears. The only comfort I can find is beneath my covers, curled up, staring at a blank white wall until something inside me feels somewhat whole again. Time is still fleeting, but it feels as if I can't quite catch it. I try to chase after it, but the seconds, the minutes, and the hours continue on as I lay beneath my covers, panicked and glossy eyed.

I am not myself. My body feels like a cracked road in dire need of repair. I wait for something or someone to fill the cracks. In an attempt to fix myself, I continue forward, but it's as if my shoe has been caught in the cracks and as I stumble back to find it, my anxiety returns. The air I'm struggling to find mixes with the lump in my throat, creating a bitter, hollow taste throughout my entire body. I try to reach out for interactions with others, but I feel emptier with each word falling from my lips. On the outside, I appear normal. No one could imagine the war inside my head; the longing I feel for meaningful interactions with others. People continue to laugh at my jokes and conversate with me in passing, but a friendship is never fully established. Would they like me better if I were completely whole? Would I be able to form these relationships if I felt comfort within my own body? Would anyone ever choose me to be their friend?

I know the answer but I'm waiting for someone to change it.

You see, if I were a chocolate bar, I would be the last one on the shelf because only certain people have acquired a taste for me. Sometimes my emotions cycle faster than the little red hand on the clock counting down the seconds. Would they still call me obnoxious, loud, and annoying if they knew how hard it is for me to roll out of bed and brush my teeth each morning? Do they know how self-critical I am, how self-conscious they've made me? No, they don't. They will never know how I long for them to ask me how I'm doing. Not so I can put my problems on them, but so I understand I am not completely forgotten about or as hollow as I feel.

It never happens though.

So, I continue to lay beneath my covers in a cold sweat from the loneliness I feel. A single tear runs down my face. I search for my being, my passion, my future—something. My body is worn out from shaking. My brain is tired from the unceasing questions it cannot answer. My eyes flutter shut, and I am asleep before I can make any conclusions, or worse, sense another attack coming on inside my head.

When I wake, I will notice three text messages from my mom and a missed call from my dad. If I could go back and be a child, I'd run into their arms and feel complete again. Still, I feel hollow within, this time with puffy eyes, a headache, and stomach cramps. I am reminded of how many positive areas I have in my life, but the hollowness swallows them up and I am unable to fully appreciate it. Will I ever feel passion, meaning, or importance? Someday maybe it will happen. With a couple more cups of green tea or a few more friends-- at least that's what I tell myself.

Yes, that's what I tell myself as I stare at the blank wall, wishing for sleep to hold me in its arms, at least for a little while. At least until I can roll out of bed and brush my teeth.