The Physics of a Breakdown

There are days when nothing is visibly wrong, yet everything inside feels completely displaced. I’ve started carrying things I never agreed to hold. It’s a feeling that rises from somewhere deep and gets stuck in my throat, like my body understands a tragedy that I don't have the words for yet.

I’ve always hated crying in front of people, but lately, I find myself on public transport, staring out the window and fighting to keep it in like it’s something shameful. Even the basic comforts have changed. Food used to mean something,memories, people, a sense of fullness. Now, my appetite has just quietly left me alone.

Sleep isn’t a refuge anymore; the nights feel heavier than they should, and the bed I used to look forward to is just something I have to endure. Even the things I used to wait for all day don't call to me anymore. That excitement feels like it belonged to a different person.

There is this constant, physical heaviness in my chest with no clear cause. My heart races, my vision blurs, and I’m just left wondering what is actually happening to me. I don't seek out company in crowds anymore; I just use them as places to disappear. I don't want to be seen; I just want to exist unnoticed, like a stranger among strangers.

The truth is, I don’t even miss the people I’ve lost. I miss the versions of them I had finally made a home in. All the certainty I used to have is gone, replaced by questions I don’t know how to answer.

This is a transcript of a version of me I barely recognize. Written from the bottom, lookingup