I’m in a low. That’s the only way to describe it. It happens every so often, though not as much as it used to. It’s difficult to pinpoint why, but I should be happy.
Life is good, steady, albeit busy but that’s the life of a senior in their final semester of college. Still, I’m in a low. I can feel it in my body, my mind, and even my heart. It takes everything in me to not drop all of my responsibilities and curl into a ball on my bed. In the past that’s what I would have done. But I can’t. Not now. Not with all of these things that I need to do every single day. But I want to. I really, really do.
I hate my low, it isn’t a fun place to be. It breaks me down and rips apart my insides, and no one sees it. No. It’s a battle I fight beneath the surface, beneath what others can actually see. I can feel my anxiety on the brink of completely giving in, a panic attack waiting to emerge. But I won’t let it. I can’t.
People don’t understand what it’s like for me and the only way for me to describe it to them is with words. Even those don’t do it justice. I’m in a low and I really hope I come out of it soon because fake smiles, forced laughter, and dangerous thoughts are no way to live.