Breathe.

Breathe breathe breathe.

_Breathe dammit, what the hell is wrong with you breathe why can’t I breathe someone help me I can’t breathe-_

I’m going to claw my skin off. That will fix everything, I think.

Breathe. Please.

_Please, I’m begging you, expand your lungs and take in air, you need oxygen, oxygen just breathe oxygen just-_

There’s something on my chest.

_I’m pinned to the couch, I swear there’s something suffocating me I can’t breathe I can’t breathe there’s no oxygen why can’t I find oxygen-_

People.

I fucking hate people.

Too many hours of crowded streets and too-small rooms and looking over my shoulders and-

I guess I was bound to freak at some point.

I’m texting.

I’m texting and it’s not even talking and I can do this.

I don’t need to rip my skin off.

The scissors will not save me. The broken plastic will not save me.

I can text.

I’m fine. I’m fine.

I’m…

f i n e

_But I’m not I’m not fine at all I’m suffocating I’m dying I can’t breathe there’s no oxygen I can’t breathe I’m okay I’m okay right why am I not okay what’s wrong with me I can’t breathe but wouldn’t it be better if I _**_really_**_ stopped breathing?_