These occurrences happen quite often.

Things start going wrong one after the other. I get flustered and overwhelmed. Even angry. Mostly at myself and then anyone around for not really getting what I’m going through.

My sensors are at an overload. And the more I have to rush to make a decision just sends me to a breaking point.

And I wonder if I could explain the way I feel and if they would understand. I wondered if it would be so simple.

I wondered if I could just say out loud I don’t feel loved enough today and it would be received with love and adoration. I wondered if things would be so simple.

Deep down I knew they wouldn’t be. Deep down I knew I wasn’t simple. My issues weren’t either. No therapist has been able to really tackle them so I roam around half undone.

But out of everything the only and I mean the only thing that really stings to my core is feeling alone. Feeling alone when I’m alone is okay. But feeling alone around others. Feeling like I’m on my own because they have close to no idea what’s going on inside me, because even if I explain it won’t come out right or they won’t even get it right. That just kills me. Having to live in this chaos alone.

Having no one to just like know when I’m having a panic attack and to just reassure me. I expect too much of others even the little times that I do.

And that certainly didn’t end there. I was a monster of my own making.

She had to come and say one thing, in the wrong tone and I lost the last nerve I was holding onto. It was unfortunate timing at best. I couldn’t stop myself. I was too angry. At everything and everyone. But mostly at myself.

Even after I’d calmed down and thrown everything that I saw, I’m glad I stopped and hesitated at my laptop; I certainly couldn’t afford to break it. All my candles had an unfortunate ending. Some survived, but barely; the rest were glass-torn wax.

How is it that I’m getting more and more messed up every day? I thought I was healing.

I can’t even handle the aftermath. I can’t handle being that terrifying to people I love and am trying to be good to. My words scream as if the world is deaf. I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. My feelings just take ugly turns, and I’m enslaved to them.

How did I become so scary? How did I become so heartless and cold? Tears don’t even last that long anymore. I need help.

It’s been hours. I’m still angry. I’ve even showered.

Having to clear the scene of a blowout always feels like I’m cleaning my own murder scene. I feel like the worst person ever. Maybe because I keep killing pieces of myself every time I blow up.

Do I relive this and try to understand how I got here? How I felt so normal yesterday and how I feel completely insane today.

Was it the movie I watched last night? It’s still running in the back of my mind. I never realized substance abuse was a trigger. But seeing the withdrawals and the aftermath of it made me relate to it a little even though my experiences were so different.

But it wouldn’t be wrong to say drug abuse did certainly have a huge impact on how my life eventually took turns for the worst. It drained my mental health. It drained me even more having to deal with it all myself. Maybe I don’t actively remember how hard it was for me. And now I do.

This was just a series of things gone wrong. But they were so little frustrations that turned into a massive blow-up.

How do I learn from this? How do I seek help?