I feel sick.

My whole body shakes and tenses and feels like I'm ripping to pieces.

My head runs, and runs, and aches and oh my god there has to be a way to make it all stop.

Creases mark my face in angry lines, so angry – why are you so angry, they always ask.

Get over it. Get over yourself.

But how can you get over yourself when you are a prisoner inside your own mind, trapped inside your body that aches and shakes and pains.

And it hurts. It hurts in those strange places that shouldn't exist, where your throat feels like it's shriveled up and being ripped through your chest, where your heart is drumming in your head, tick-tock-ticking time 'till it's about to explode.

Please, god, just let me explode.

And those noises, the ones escaping through my barred teeth, the ones that sound as if I'm drowning. Can you hear me drowning? I feel the weight crashing down on every fiber of my body, crushing my lungs and I'm just paralyzed there, drowning. Drowning in that imaginary sea that's only visible to me. Each wave crashing down on me just as I begin gasping for air.

And then I know I'm crazy, I know I'm sick. I know that my mind had taken me captive and I've lost control.

That's what it's all about, isn't it?

Because even when the waves pass and I catch my breath and the agony only remains etched in my worry lines that promise a premature end to youth, I know I have no control – not over the pain, not over the sickness, and not over myself.

I can't get over it.