The Reality of Anxiety and Overthinking: A War against Yourself

Sometimes I believe it’s not that big a thing but my mind says what if it is? What if you’re choosing to ignore it? What if she really meant it? What if it really happens? What if he really does it? Amongst all these 'what ifs' I stand clueless and clouded, my rationality deserts me and I choose to go down that old road again. It's useless to tell my mind that you're overthinking. It knows and yet it chooses to go against me. That is the whole point, you against yourself. Sometimes I feel that I don’t even put an effort in it anymore, it flows subconsciously. And the more you resist, the deeper you sink. I’m too used to this now, my mind is more like, oh, the same thing again. As I try to calm myself down uselessly, I tell myself it's going to be over soon but I know it’s going to be a long night. It is terrifying and yet not surprising at the same time. At some point you just give in, you just go numb, it is the only way or is it? You stop putting in an effort, trying to halt a tide that is against you. There are no real answers to your whats and ifs. It’s just a web, where you try to find your way through thoughts that have no end. It’ll suck every ounce of energy in you, you’d want to dive so deep that you can’t hear anything anymore, but you’re already so drowned, it’s starting to get pitch black.

When anxiety creeps in and says hi, I’m not terrified, but petrified, again. I say, no, not you again, not this time, there is nothing new. Just leave me alone, for a moment, just for one moment, let me breathe. You leave me dead inside, yet when I open my eyes, I’m still alive. Can I do nothing about it? I feel helpless, I tried to scream but no one can hear it, I want to speak but there is no one to hear it, I want to break free but it’s a tight cage, I want to tell it's okay when it's clearly not. I want someone to hold me and tell me it's going to be fine. But where are you? Do you even exist? Is it me alone again, forever? All these years of suffering in silence and yet every time I hope there’s not a next time. They say it’s an attack but it’s actually a war and every time I fight against myself and lose to myself. 

Then one day I will choose to hold myself, and tell myself that you're still beautiful. You're not a monster and your thoughts are not facts. The sky is your mind and your thoughts are like clouds. They should be left to float because they’re meant to. I will rather now acknowledge than deny, accept and let go and peacefully listen to the 100 people talking inside my head. It is still tiring, yes, you’re right but I don’t suffer now, it’s life.