a tender tortillera

I am in a major depressive episode and my anxiety has been growing and growing. My palms are sweaty, I literally cannot stop trembling at times, and if I didn't keep my tongue between my teeth, I would have lockjaw from clenching so hard

I am super high functioning, so it feels maddening how my mind can be on fire and I'm just sitting at work, getting my tickets done and filing bugs.

I know I have been craving a space where my sickness can be seen and held and that it could be witnessed without detracting or exceptionalizing what I have been able to accomplish.

I have been wanting nothing more than to cry it all out and be held. At the same time, I want to jump around my room, blast "I'm not okay, I promise" and sing at the top of my lungs. This manic and frantic energy pulls me between being too exhausted to do anything but cry and feeling so damn restless that I could run and run and run and maybe never stop.

I told my therapist that I am trying sobriety because I can't get high anymore and I'm just throwing money at a problem that money can't solve. I guess that is the scariest bit, right Genesis? That there is no solving this and you just aren't okay. I'm not okay and it feels like I'm alone in that because everyone just sees how put together I am, but I'm not, I'm not okay, I promise.

note for future genesis:

the poem you performed was called 'slip your mind',

from swarm.

other note for future genesis:

Turns out,

I love you filled my eyes