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I am tired.

I am stressed.

I am angry.

I am anxious.

I am a sneeze away from a psychotic break.


I can’t breathe.

I am depressed.

I can’t move.

I am struggling.

I want out.

No one hears me.


Helicopter mom doesn’t listen to anything but the hum of her own propellers. Too self-absorbed to notice anything but herself.

I feel like everything that I do, is a waste of time and effort.

I can feel the helicopter’s blades strengthening.

Deafening, smothering, defeated.

I can’t seem to figure anything out.

Identity theft-thief doesn’t even want to be me.


Searching for independence.

Struggling for independence.


Eat feelings.

Gain 20 pounds.

Hates self.

Gains 40.


So anxiety stricken, that I can’t stop reliving situations in my head.

I have that constant feeling that I’m at the top of a 400-foot roller coaster without any safety restraints.


Hanging in suspension.


So incredibly lost.


I’m not writing as much as I used to.

I’m not drawing as much as I used to.

I feel like I’m stuck.

I need to get out.

I can’t breathe.