When it hits you suddenly.

Its after midnight, after a long day, a long lecture, and when i say long, i mean long.

I lie on my bed, scroll through my insta feed for a half hour more, obstinately ignoring the dreaded pressure on my chest. Dad comes in. Jokes that i ran off because i didnt want to hear him lecture me anymore on my shit communication and life skills. Partly true. I didnt want to hear their lectures anymore. But i didnt run. I stay silent, joke about it too, and he leaves.

Lights out. Phone plugged in to charge, and im trying to sleep. Music swirls in my head, and vague glimpses, suggestions, of things im supposed to do pop out at me through the mist of my foggy head. The pressure gives in to a caving feeling in my chest and panic builds. I touch my body to reassure myself that i do not have a large part of my torso missing, particularly where my lungs and heart are. But the detachment convinces me that in filled with emptiness. The chasm that opens up in me seems to slowly consume everything else within vicinity. The only way to describe it would be like it grew tendrils that squeezed the other organs that were not already part of it. My stomach is in knots. The first tears come with a lot of frustration, as my emotions ride just a sliver above the maximum needed for crying. In that moment, grounding my emotions and thoughts into crying seems impossible. It just floats, and im just tired. The word failure stays at the forefront. Its nothing new. It takes some coaxing, and eventually the suffocating burn of shallow breaths pull me back enough to cry silently into my pillow, in a pitch black room with my sister scrolling on her phone less than five feet away. Unaware that i am having a literal mental breakdown right next to her. Probably for the best. Crying isnt a good word. I didnt cry. Tears dripped. That was about it. A few minutes later the feeling mildly subsides but the emptiness does not, and i stop crying. My nose is stuffed and i remember i cant inhale through them because it would be obvious and loud. Instead i inhale through my mouth, slow measured breaths that still are way too shallow. The emptiness in my chest builds. The place where my heart is feels like a void that sucks all my breath away. I touch myself again to convince myself i dont have an empty space where my chest is. The emptiness digs deeper and for a split second i think this is how its going to be forever. My hand feels cold on my chest. I cannot hear my heartbeat, but i can feel my temples start to hurt. My neck is stiff. Nothing and everything goes through my head, no words, only vague, fleeting feelings that feel like oddly specific reactions to certain familiar situations, too fast to process, too slow to ignore. Another wave of tears hit without warning this time and i cry for maybe one more minute, with my head in my sheets. I think, maybe im not as mentally sound as i like to think i am. I think, what if ms bridget was right about me having thyroid problems all along? It is a new feeling, struggling to breathe in my own bed, facing the ceiling. The more i try, the shallower and quicker i breathe. The panic subsides as i become vividly aware of my breathing and how erratic it is. I decide that i need to document this before i forget. So here i am, and here it is. I am no longer crying, and my chest doesnt feel unsound anymore. But at the moment, i felt like i did not exist. I would have welcomed it had the physical pain clawing at my lungs and heart and temple did not come with it. It feels unreal. There is a certain kind of ridiculousness that i feel. This is the second time i have cried during the holidays. The first was when my parents were out, and it was 1am, and the living room was dark and everyone was asleep. I covered my mouth with my hoodie paw and cried silently on the sofa. Both times there wasnt any specific trigger, except perhaps the sense that i have failed, and i have failed terribly.

But now i am afraid of bad dreams. Nightmares. They have come less, but have hit worse. I cant see anything except my phone and the fear is still running in my veins, revving up my imagination. All times it is borderline nonsensical. Indescribable. The fear doesnt hit immediately. The uncanniness does. The distinct, hair rising feeling that something is very very wrong. I wake up, and the fear hits. And it builds. I try to describe it to people, and it sounds insane. It sounds unscary at all. The ultimate unique user experience, limited to my own brain. My fear of the dark is returning, not full blown yet, but i can feel it coming. When im full out scared, i insistently browse memes and social media even though my eyes hurt and i feel like sleeping. I browse until theres some light from 6.30 onwards through the window and i am thoroughly worn. Then i put aside my phone and sleep.