The burden

I’ve only had two full-fledged panic attacks, I think. The first one I was with a group of friends. I didn’t know what was happening when my body went numb and I was hyperventilating. My friends laughed at me and made crude jokes like I was physically disabled as I desperately tried to regain feeling in my extremities. The last one, I was freaking out really bad, I thought I was dying. I was in a bed, in a dark room. Almost all of my family was in the next room over. For hours I was screaming, literally screaming for help; I didn’t want to be alone. And they just turned the tv up and ignored me.

And that’s the truth. It has been my whole life. The people I care about don’t care about me if it’s literally any imposition at all. I’m just supposed to be happy and nice and never need anything. So I guess it’s just me, then, now, and always.

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