Trigger Warning: Panic attack
So, I'm currently sitting in the bathroom wondering if I'm going to vomit or I'm just having a panic attack. Probably the second one with a little dash of the first. I'm also wondering when my mind tearing itself apart became 'just' a panic attack. It's times like this that make me wonder if I really am as crazy as people think. Because I know the things I see sometimes when it's really bad, I know those things aren't real. But now, when my heart's pounding and my hands are shaking so badly that I don't know I'll be able to read this later, I'm not so sure.
Finnick's knocking. He says I've been in here forever, that he's really starting to get worried now. If I loved him, I would let him in and lie that I'm fine or let him call Dr. Antonius on my like I know he wants to. I do love him, I'll swear my life on that, but right now… right now he's not quite real. My world consists of the demons that are screaming inside my head and the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl that I'm resting my cheek again because it's hotter than hell in here. I hate that a toilet, not my boyfriend or whatever Finnick is exactly, is my one link to reality.
He's shouting now, and I wonder how long it's been since I came in here. Probably a while, since I didn't pick up his shower ideas journal and start writing in it until I'd been in here for a while, and I've got over a page filled in now. I really should answer him, but I'm a terrible girlfriend, so I keep writing and pretending none of this is real. Maybe he'll break down the door and all the pressure in this room will be let out.
I'm not making any sense now, not even to myself. There are three thin trails of blood running down the side of the toilet, and I know they are mine, or were mine, and they mean that I'm not doing well because I haven't broken the skin with my clawing and scratching in months, but I thought I could hide it. Hiding it never works. Never. I'm moving backwards. Finnick's wrong when he says it takes ten times as long to pull yourself together as it does to fall apart. I cracked in an instant and will spend the rest of my life trying to just sort through the pieces. Anything that I found at the end would be a hodgepodge as full of glue as remnants of the old Annie.
The doorknob is rattling. Finnick sounds scared. I'm going to let him in. I'll force myself to put down this pen and do the right thing for once. If I'm not strong for me now, I won't have anyone to be strong for me later.
You're not real, I know that, but I'll say goodbye to you anyway. As long as I know I'm mad, I'm still in control.