Hello everyone, this is my first fanfic. I've been inspired to write this as to get away from my feelings. I don't feel much confident to write, but I feel more confident when I'm writing in english than my own language. This way I should also apologise for my english and mistakes.

Situation, which I've written here is based on my own experience with anxiety. I don't know how accurate it is, this is only how it goes for me.

And because Sherlock is character with which I can relate the most I've decided to torture him. :P

Also I don't know if medication part is accurate. I've written it all from head. I'm no expert, but I'm graduate chemist /high school/ and I'm hoping to study pharmacy.

I don't own Sherlock or title, which is from Twenty One Pilots' song 'Car Radio'. There're hidden also three more lines from TOP's songs in story. Can you find them all? ;)

Thank you for reading and please leave a review. Make me happy. :)

Quiet is violent

Everything is dark. Everything is quiet. Quiet. Too quiet.

I'm tired. I'm exhauted. I want to do nothing. Only sleep. Sleep. Sleep sounds nice. But it's not possible. Not now.

My head protests. Always protests. Thoughts. Many thoughts are flowing through my head like river steam. It doesn't stop. It never does.

I want to fall asleep and be free from these thoughts. At least for a while. For a while. For one minute. For one second.

I can't. I can't. Whatdid I do? I wish I knew. But I don't know what's happening inside my head.

Somebody stop it please. Quiet is violent. Constant buzzing in my head doesn't help.

I feel like my head and body don't belong together. Where do they belong then? Where do I belong?

I sigh as I think about this. I've been thinking too much. I grab pillow from my bed and cover my face with it. Suddenly it feels nice? Trying to block my own thoughts.

From whom am I blocking them? Myself.

I'm mess. Why I must be this way. Why am I anxious? Why can't I just act normal? Why? Why? Why?!

Questions. Many questions. No answers. There've never been answers. Just unanswered questions. Maybe it's better this way.

It's dark and it's late. I'm tired. I want to sleep. I try to close my eyes and drift off to sleep. I can't. Everything is so loud that is keeping me awake. That's not true. Everything is quiet. Too quiet. My thoughts are loud and keeping me awake.

Shut up. Shut up! Let me sleep. Please.

I sit on my bed. Clutching my head in my hands. Forcing my eyes to stay closed. Then I open them and look around myself. Darkness and loneliness.

I'm alone. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me. However I'm not alone now. I'm left here with my thoughts.

I feel forming a headache. I lay on my bed and curl on myself. For protection. I try to close my eyes again and sleep. Sleep.

Now my chest feels too tight. Too tight. My heart is beating rapidly in my too tight chest. Like my heart wants to jump from my body. My pulse is probably too high, too. And I feel myself sweating that I kick off bed sheets.

My chest feels too tight that I forgot how to breathe. Breathing is not boring. Not now.

Back of my mind is telling me to breathe. To breathe. Suddenly I'm not lying on my bed, but sitting and trying to draw some deep breaths.

I forgot how to. How to breathe. It hurts to breathe. My breaths are coming only in weak rasps. But I'm breathing. At least.

Then dizziness happens. My head is spinning in circles. I don't know if it's from not enough oxygen or anxiety. Probably both.

Anxiety. How I hate it. Not knowing if you are hot or cold. Living in stress and constant fear. Fear of what? Fear of unknown.

When I feel myself little calmed I lie down again. My heart stopped beating so fast. That's good. Good.

I curl on myself and close my eyes. I can feel my body shaking. From what? I feel hot and sweating and from rexlex I press back of my hand to my forehead. Cold. No fever. I feel hot outside and cold inside. Empty inside. I don't know what's inside me.

I want to cry. But I don't cry. Never. I already feel tears forming in my eyes and quickly brush them off. No one can see me in this state. No one is allowed to see this side of me. No one.

I toss and turn in bed from side to side, which ends only in kicking more blankets off bed. Shut up brain! I'm trying to sleep. Can I just switch it off? I know I can't, my brain works constantly all day all night, without break. Right now however my brain needs break. Sensory overload.

Then I feel strange feeling in my guts. Nausea. I try to remember what I have eaten that day. Not much as always. I start to take deep breaths as wishing to make it go away. Silently thanking that breathing is not painful anymore.

Finally settled I close my eyes again wishing that I have took something for it. Can't get up. Not now. I don't trust myself on my legs. Too shaky.

My muscles are too stiff. Relax. Relax. Can't relax. Can't.

Medication. Anxiolytics. My only saviour. Because sometimes to stay alive you got to kill your mind.

I don't want to go through this again. Drugs. Addiction. I'm not an addict anymore. I'm clean.

This is different. This is legal. Psychopharmacs. Alprazolam. I have prescription. It calms me. Helps me fight my demons.

Why do I need chemicals in my body to function properly? To remind myself that I'm human? I'm more machine than human. More brain than heart. But now my brain is betraying me. That's why I'm taking chemistry as a relief. Carefully. Because Sherlock Holmes the chemist will not be beaten by chemistry. Not again.

I get up and make my way to bathroom on shaky legs and from cupboard I pull small box of medication. I take one pill and swallow it with glass of water.

I stop as I look at myself in mirror. Messy tousled hair, big dark circles under my bloodshot eyes. Not those sharp eyes, with which I'm loooking at crime scene or mixing various chemicals together. My skin is pale. But I have always been so pale. I've become a mess. Mess of person. Am I really person now?

I get back to bed. Waiting for medication to kick in. Eta 20 minutes. It's late. Too late. I should sleep. I want to sleep.

I just want to be normal. Though I'm not. I'm freak. I always have been and always will. I'm psychopat, as most people refer me. They're wrong. Actually I'm high-functioning sociopath. Do your research.

People assume that I'm arrogant, annoying, rude. But less they know there's sad troubled man behind those pair of bright ice blue eyes.

Right now I'm fighting neverending battle with my demons. It seems that demons are winning. I'm losing. But I'm fighting. I'm not giving up.

It may be hard. It may be bad. I'm not going to surrender. I won't let this illness control me. I'll fight until I win this battle.

I want somebody who will hold me tight and tell me that I'm worth. That I matter. Everything will be okay. Okay. That I'm okay.

I need a saviour. Someone who will save me from myself. Show me brighter side of living. Maybe someday. Now I'm better off alone.

There are good days and bad days. This was definitely a bad one.

On good days I feel only empty inside. Bad days are when physical symptoms start start to show up. Illness can be mental, but symptoms are physical.

I feel myself start to relax as medication starts to kick in. My muscles don't feel so stiff now. I feel calm. Relaxed. That's the efect. Feeling relaxed and calm after taking medication.

Thoughts in my head are getting quieter and quieter until they finally fade to complete silence and I allow myself to drift off to much needed sleep.

I hope tomorrow will be one of good days. The sun will rise and I will try again. Again, again and again...