This may sound, and probably is, paradoxical.
I’m fighting at the moment. Finding the moment really hard. Painful even. I don’t know what or why. It’s all just a mass of, of somethings that I can’t name.
Feeling like I can’t breathe, trying to get enough air when there is air. I never used to notice this. Recently I realized that I can see in my body when I am anxious, uh, I think it’s when I am nervous about something. Either way, sometimes I feel it in my chest. And when I am fighting something my entire body freezes, I don’t move or speak much; I can’t. It may be for different reasons. It’s the first time I am acknowledging that my body is telling me something, that I can see when something doesn’t feel safe.
The struggle. It’s hard. I hate it. Every moment I want to be elsewhere. Anywhere other than living life. I don’t, can’t tune into it constantly. So I am fighting. But, I am fighting. I am living. I am being. I used to just escape it. Never knew it existed for it just wasn’t and for I just, as I still usually do, cut off from it. The struggle. I can fight. I can find it hard. And however little sense that may seem to make, it’s my reason for the moment (This moment in time being one of those that I would rather be anywhere other than this world).