Venting

As night approaches, so does my anxiety. You see, when the excitement of the day dies down and I am left alone with my thoughts, things get complicated, scary even.

I feel like I'm going to explode. The constant urge...desire...need, to scream rises and I get restless. I can't explain how it feels, not really. And I don't know what exactly is causing it. My life is by no means bad. Difficult? Sure, but whose isn't?

I just don't know what to do because I feel like it's getting worse by the day and I'm scared to ask for help. Afraid of what they'll say and the judgements that will be passed. I'm worried that everything is going to change if I let someone in. I'm terrified, that if I do say something, if I do get help, that there won't be any problem. Maybe it's just me, overreacting or creating... Fuck. Does that even make sense? I'm scared of losing the few people I have due to whatever issues I may have. Issues that if I could fix and control I would.

It's just hard, I guess. Staying strong is hard, and sometimes painful, but I do, because I cling to the hope that things are going to get better, no matter how bad they appear to be right now.
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My mind is just about bursting at the seams and that inescapable urge to scream and the unsettling thoughts that I failed to mention, have followed me into the sunlight. I'm not doing well and I'm actually considering asking for help. Even if things do change. I just can't stand being plagued by my own mind anymore.

Outwardly, everything appears to be fine. I've even managed to fool myself on the rare occasion that my mind is quiet, but I'm a mess on the inside. I don't know how to clean it up and I can't say I think it would be fair to drag someone else into it, throwing them into drama unnecessarily.
And so here I stand; at a crossroad between my mental health and others.

Fuck!