I’m sorry for what my anxiety makes me do. And I want you to know it’s not me, it’s my anxiety. It’s not who I am fully, it’s just a piece of me.
Anxiety makes me talk too fast or not at all. It makes me stay up too late and toss and turn until it’s 3 a.m. and my mind is still running a marathon. Anxiety makes me have dark circles under my eyes that not even a 30 dollar concealer can combat them. It makes my eyes burn in the morning when I’m looking up at the sun trying to shake away the exhaustion. It makes me fucking tired.
I’m sorry for what my anxiety makes me do. And you need to know it’s not me. It’s not who I am or who I want to be. It’s anxiety.
Anxiety makes me want to go nonstop. It makes me go go go until I run out of steam. Anxiety makes me break over and over again. It makes me say things I shouldn’t say. It makes me spill secrets that shouldn’t have been shared to me. It makes me talk behind people’s back, hissing at someone else’s personality, just to feel a bit more alive.
Anxiety turns me into someone I don’t want to be.
Anxiety makes me lose friends. It makes me paranoid that no one truly loves me. It makes me cancel on dates because I’m afraid of silence. It makes my hands shake for no reason. It makes me think I’m going mad.
Anxiety makes me stay inside when the weather is bright and beautiful. It makes me not go out with friends and family even when I really want to. It makes me take a pill every single morning, to combat the demons in my mind.