I wish I could stop inconveniencing my friends. I wish I could sleep at night and not be so goddamn frightened of the shadows cast by the nightlight I keep on, wish I weren’t jolted awake every 2 hours to quickened pulses and shallow breaths. I wish I didn’t have to be up at 4 in the morning, staring at the clock until it strikes 6, late enough to not merit the suspicious glances of security guards as I enter the school and pass out on the office couch, all because I was too afraid of the dark.
I wish I could stop asking friends where they are, if I could stay with them, if they could come to me and stay with me because they have their lives to live, and while I will never mind being the person whose assistance is sought, I will always mind being the person who needs the help.
I wish I didn’t. I-
(N.B. I wrote this just before a particularly horrible anxiety attack that rendered me incapable of studying for the entire night, which led to my absence in class the next day. That same day, I finally told my sister about what I was going through and how I needed professional help for the second time in 4 years, and she told me in that nonchalant, almost-cerebral kind of way, “Sasamahan kita.” (“I’ll go with you.”) and I realised, maybe I can get through today, and later, and tomorrow, and again and again, and again and again, because if she thinks that I can and that she’ll see me through, maybe I can, too.)
Of perpetual finds 