Crying In A Stairwell

Around the turn from August to September, I happily went off to college, it was in my state, easy access to everything, and I was happy with my location. Within the first two weeks of getting to meet as many people as I could, I started to venture out and about romantically. From morning till I nearly fell asleep standing, I was around someone doing something. Personally, I thought I was doing better than ever, while totally neglecting a whole half of myself that would eventually forcefully rear its head into my life. By the twenty-eighth of that same month, I turned nineteen and had a whole surprise party for me, It felt like life couldn’t get better, except for the ever-present warm temperatures that presided over us all. The feeling of summer held on way long past it’s welcome and pushed fall into the background as the joys of October rushed in.

As someone who loves tarot and astrology and the idea of Halloween in general, there was not a month nor time of year I would be as excited for. But as every joyful day passed by, as I spent every second around other people, small ‘events’ started occurring mentally. People would be having fun while I would roll my eyes, laughs came with my disgust, suppressing it constantly meant spending all of my time faking my own emotions, trying to replicate the pure unbridled joy of September. As the end of the month approached, so did my braking point. I had entirely ignored the fact that by nature I’m slightly more of an introvert and need my time and space alone. Instead of feeling like I was taking my own initiative to go out and about with friends every night, I felt sicker and annoyed with every human around me at all times. In fact there were times I nearly lashed out or did instead of just walking away because I had previously convinced myself that alone time was now bad and wasteful.

Having culminated in a series of panic attacks, missing multiple classes, literally having the urge to yell at everyone around me; literally not a single thing was correct at that point. Instead of slowly backing off, I essentially jumped off and ran away to my room or outside. One windy and rainy night in particular I sat outside under what could only be somewhere between a bush and a tree. Leaves rustled turned and nearly hit me in the face as wave after wave of emotion slammed into me. I texted everyone I knew, anyone on any platform I could contact for help. As it had always been, my best of friends from high school talked for me for the majority of it, while as the time passed well into the night.

So many problems became obvious during that period, one being that I needed my own space from other people. Everything in my life must come as a balance and arguably my own time versus others’ time should have been a high priority. The other more underlying one was that as much as I could try to meet every guy I liked on an app, rarely if ever did it actually happen, and every day, eventually every minute, I was checking on apps to see if someone wanted to talk. So consistently thinking about guys and their opinions on me slowly but surely wore me down internally to nothing in its own right regardless of anything else. Residing even further behind all of it was my anxiety over classes and just trying to get through some of them while I barely had the energy to exist.

November rolled it subtly but swiftly with a whole new set of tasks on it’s back. Week after week I would have something in particular to manage or figure out, while inspecting my own feelings and emotions daily. There have been multiple days where I’ve had to what feels like shove my way right past destiny and just make my own path separate from what ‘should of happened’. Eventually I got to tonight, where a mental peak of that method has been reached.

Starting off with the morning, I woke up late, and proceeded to try to simply register for my classes next semester, which didn’t work whatsoever. It ended up being a four-hour long fiasco that pushed me to the limit and drained a majority of my energy but in the end after literal hours of work it had been done. Immediately after that, my stress began again over how there was a possibility of meeting with a guy later in the evening, and hour after hour there were gaps in responses and by around 7 it was decided that nothing would end up happening at all. I wanted to give up, I ran into the stairwell and cried, after a whole morning of working hard to make stuff work out, why was this so utterly impossible. I began to doubt every word he had ever said to me, until after loudly crying alone did I get a text. There was a small but effective conversation and by the end I certainly felt better about everything, but there was still the fact that I had two anxiety attacks in one day. While I stood there, listening to music, I again realized I was just a nineteen year old who was three months into college, just trying to find happiness in his life.

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