013.

I am tired. 

Very, very tired. 

Of carrying the weight of survivorship upon my shoulders. Of spinning the wheels in my mind, trying to come up with the most justifiable reason as to why I'm so goddamm neurotic all the time. 

The weight of it all sits upon my chest like an invisible elephant. Snapping my ribs, bursting my lungs, collapsing my wind pipe. 

The shame. The guilt. The confusion. The blurred lines. The hazy images hoping to eventually become clear memories. The paranoia. The internalizing of every little thing. The sensitivity. The overemotional. The high self expectations. The disassociation. The avoidance. The irritability. The numbing depression. The paralyzing anxiety. The self doubt. The judgment. The disbelief. 

It's a heavy load to carry. The knots in my stomach, lumps in my throat, strings in my chest pulled. They've all become a sturdy foundation to hold it all. 

I'm going to be okay. I know these things won't destroy me. I won't let them. I'm just feeling the weight a little bit heavier these days than the usual days.