When I was a kid, I was very curious, maybe that’s how I my motivation to read and read until my head hurts in the morning.I just don’t read books that have stories with a good enough ending to get me through the day, I read these books where I learn more about existence, and death.
Death—the very core of my fear and tantrums. I fell in love with the idea and scared me to death (literally). To be honest, in my 18 years of existence, I have anxiety attacks because of the fear of death. I had this experience where I was push myself on the corner of my room, murmuring “death is inevitable” over and over again, until I cried. It’s a certain kind of danger that you can’t get away with. This stemmed from my fascination of books that scares the shit out of me. I didn’t read children’s books when I was a kid, I read pocketbooks, eerie once, in other words, I put myself in the pit of my own fear.
Coping with my anxiety attacks weren’t easy, I’d knock on my mother’s door late at night and just tell her my fears. Sometimes, I don’t want to tell her these, because, who wants to talk about death, right? Our finish line. My mom took me so well, cared for me until I forget everything, but every now and then I get anxiety attacks, it lasts for about a month.
I remember having to call up my Mom in the middle of the trip ‘cause I was uneasy. I just talked to her about not leaving me and I need her attention because my mind is playing tricks on me again and I’m really nervous. Every step that I ever took when I have anxiety attacks were calculated. I don’t want to have an early cut-off.
I don’t know how to cope with it actually. I just wish that it’d fade away as soon as I fall asleep, as soon as I’m done dreaming. Only a few know about my anxiety attacks, and I tried so hard to write something up about it but everytime that I’m on the verge of breaking down, my hands get cold, and my mind tricks me.
I never considered any vice so I can forget my anxiety attacks, and I don’t want any prescription pill to make me feel okay. It’s just that, I know it’s something invetibale and I’m only slowing down the process. It would go away eventually, if you relax a bit. But sometimes in the verge of everything, I just put myself in a ball and wish death won’t come to me after I dream.
What do I think about when I get anxiety attacks? well. I dream about the after-death, the “What would it feel like not breathing?” the “ What if I don’t breathe right now?” kind of stuff that goes through my head. It’s something that I’m not that happy about. It’s something I wish my brain could not process at the time of my breakdown. It’s something that makes me nervous.
I don’t know if these fears are something that tell me I should live a better life, or my brain is just amazing for imagining stuff like that, but it has been 12 months since my last anxiety attack. I’m doing pretty good and I haven’t thought of anything terrible in a macabre state.
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