#anxietyinsideout

there’s a war beneath my skin— not seen, not heard, only felt in the hollow ache of every restless night.

the needles of anxiety prick, sharp and endless, while depression drags me into pits without bottom.

i wear my scars like armor, but they don’t protect— they remind me of battles fought in silence, in dark corners where no one visits.

sometimes, i want to rip my own skin to feel something real, to drown the chaos with pain i can control.

but it’s not just the cutting— it’s the constant tug of rituals, the endless need to fix what isn’t broken, the crushing perfectionism that crushes me whole.

this isn’t a choice. this is survival, a twisted language my mind learned too well.

New outfit 👁🔥👁

Thinking about the older Riley wanting to wear cute outfits later, her emotions would want to replicate it, so here's Anxiety trying on something new.

P.S. Yes, I got it from Pinterest, hehe.

my mind is a broken metronome, tick—tick—tick—grind—snap— a jagged pulse that never finds the beat.

i step, again and again, left, right, left, right, a pattern etched in anxiety’s stone, a dance i can’t refuse.

breathing is a battlefield, inhale—hold—exhale—repeat, or else the walls close in, a suffocating cage made of invisible chains.

they call it obsession, but it’s a war with myself, fighting shadows i can’t catch, trapped in loops with no escape.

every step wrong, every breath off, is a crack in my sanity— a scream muffled beneath forced smiles, a storm that rages in silence.