Anxiety

Bismillah.

Huh. I do only come here every 3-4 months.

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Anxiety.

Unable to breath properly.

Sure, my housemate had that before, she keeps telling me about it. She used to be anxious because of a bad situation she was in.

But what about me?

It happens too, but behind close doors. I couldn't sleep much, I couldn't eat much because of it, but I just tell people that I have a stomach ache only.

...

I've been saying this again and again. 

I feel hurt too! I can feel pain too! I have my own problems too! Just because I don't tell anyone about it...

... doesn't mean I'm living worry free.

It's just that I'm enduring it alone.

And when you've been enduring it alone long enough, you'll become bitter.

This...hateful feeling is not something I'm proud of.

Even I, myself, hate it.

I feel imperfect.

That I'm incapable of loving.

It's fine as long as I don't trouble others.

But I'm gonna be very lonely.

...Ah, this hateful feeling.

----

She's got her list of her illnesses, and she shared it with us.

How do I feel about it?

What do you think? When someone shows a list of her pain to a person who never tells others about her troubles, what do you think she's gonna feel?

The same way if you have a friend showing her travel photos, her happy family, her branded handbags and clothes...and shove them all to your face, you who are not as wealthy as her.

...Would you feel jealous?

No, not jealous. Instead, you'd be irritated. Annoyed.

Or up to a certain extent... vengeful.

She dares share it with me (it was a list of them!), hoping that I would care and feel sorry for her...

...just makes me feel resentful.

I have been enduring all these hurt and pain and fear alone, without telling you. I even decided to never let you know if I ever got admitted into a hospital because I don't want to trouble you from fussing over me. Because you'd get sick if you worry too much.

...But how dare you do this to me?

...

...Yes, I feel angry.

This freaking passive-aggressiveness, I freaking hate it.

I feel bitter, because I have to care, even though it makes me angry.

***

Here I am, staying alone in my room for the long weekend just trying to recover back from my anxiety. I had to reject my brother's request for help back in my hometown. That didn't feel good. I felt guilty for declining.

I felt guilty for saying no.

What the hell. Am I showing symptoms of being a doormat?

Being kind doesn't come easy for me, so I make a conscious effort for it. And now I'm even blaming myself for not being nice enough. For turning others down.

...Hahhh I'm tired.

What's the point.