A/N: Hey guys, this isn't bbs related, (sadly) but I just wanted to share this little piece of writing with you. I was supposed to do it as an extra credit assignment for school, but then I didn't finish it on time, so now it's here. It's a little dark, but you guys know that's how I roll. I'll let you guys interpret it however you'd like. Anyways, go ahead and read it if you want. :3
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You know that feeling that you get?

That sick feeling, overly familiar, at least for me.

The one that sends your stomach circling, flipping, at a loss of control.

Accompanied by a cold chill up your spine, and the ever present pounding of your head.

Finalized by the loss of voice, cemented into your being by the dull ache of your heart, seeming as though someone-or something-has latched onto your body, your soul, and is pumping in this mass amount of worry that you have yet to even start comprehending.

Yeah, that feeling.

You know that feeling?

The same one that sends you into a state of pure panic, unfiltered fear coursing through your veins as you look on helplessly, wondering, practically begging, to know what's wrong.

Caressing your once innocent mind and shoving every happy thought into the sharp, dark corners, where they sit chained to the wall, making room for nothing but paranoia and overwhelming trepidation, waves of the two emotions washing over you and engulfing your entire being, leaving you to drown. To die.

And the best part?

At that moment in time, that still frame moment, painfully torn from invisibility, you are completely and utterly alone.

Alone.

No one knows that your mind, a tornado, is slowly damaging itself and quickly becoming your worst enemy.

No one knows that you can't move or speak in your dismantled position.

No one knows that your breathing is getting shaky with every inhale, threatening to stop completely at any moment.

No one knows.

And no one sees the trembling of your now clammy hands, cold fingers twitching at the practically numb tips.

No one sees the disturbing picture before them, the indescribable internal struggle that's currently going on, the battle that is undeniably clear from your perspective.

No one sees.

And at this point in time, you've actually begun to start to believe in, to wallow in the words you once refused to even acknowledge:

No one cares.

Maybe it's the loss of hope, maybe it's the need for release or maybe it's the weakness that has now become a part of your daily routine.

Whatever it is, it has pushed you to the edge and flicked you over, letting you fall and crash into the same three words, their inky black strands gripping onto your body and pulling you down, cutting off your supply of peace, injecting you with a surplus amount of dread, covering it with a fake sense of contentment and pulling the mask over your pained face.

But, during these times, with this gut feeling and this loss of mobility, no mask will keep you from exerting your panic, your terror.

There's nothing more nerve wracking than showing your one weakness in the public, surrounded by people. There's nothing worse than knowing all eyes are trained on your movements and judgmental whispers are being thrown your way.

There's nothing that pushes this feeling further to the surface than knowing you're the center of attention, knowing they can see past your dangerously placed facade, which is now cracking and breaking at the seams, hanging halfway off your face as a testament to your failure.

Your monotone facade, your safety blanket, has been ripped away from you, and all of a sudden, you're surrounded by the lasting faces of the monsters that you worked so hard to tuck into the back of your mind, the demons that you banished to the fuzzy, dilapidated part of your brain.

But really, at this point, you're whole conscience is fuzzy and dilapidated, everything is broken, nothing is okay.

Nothing was ever okay.

But you, foolish you, decided to slap on a temporary bandaid and give a new definition to the word.

You let things pool up, to the brink and further, exploding, mental wounds bleeding out ugly words, none of which are any type of okay.

But that doesn't stop you from trying to move, to keep up this fake satisfaction. You do everything in your damaged power to continue, to break away from the attack overwhelming your entire being, just for the sake of becoming invisible again.

Just so you don't have to be stared at, questioned, dodged, like some sort of disease to the public.

Although, one could argue that at this moment, this painfully obvious moment, you are a disease.

Unstable and dangerous, ready to burst open and become something you always ran from.

All because of a feeling.

A feeling.

This feeling that, for you, has no cure. You're stuck harboring this burden for the rest of your so called life, walking on eggshells, taking every precaution, using your haphazard solutions to try and build up your broken pieces.

But, every time you reach the top, this feeling will come for you, claws out and ready, reaching for your sanity, itching to taint your peace of mind, twitching at the thought of destroying you.

This feeling knows no limits, knows nothing of sympathy, of mercy. You are its hostage, it's host, a conduit for its torture.

You have no rights, no type of release, this feeling took your hand and made you sign a contract that will bind you for the rest of your days.

Forced to place on that crooked facade, in pieces, yet somehow still able to close you off from reality.

Forcing you against the wall, chained, and left to watch as this feeling becomes your everything, up front and in control.

And you, foolish you, you've stopped trying to fight at this point, because this is your everything. This feeling is what keeps you attached to this world, as crooked and twisted as it is, this feeling is now the only thing that keeps you grounded.

Without it, you become numb, unable to cope, unable to

Feel

You see, this feeling is the only thing you have left. And so it makes sense to hold on to the one thing that keeps you alive, to the one thing that forces you to walk, talk, feel.

At first, it takes everything from you, and then, it forces everything on you.

You know that feeling?

Please, take it from me.