They call it functioning anxiety

I force my eyes shut begging rather to stay in the nightmares of sleep than to face the reality of consciousness. The butterflies are there before my first thoughts, frantic in their quest to escape the bounds of my skin. If I could only open my mouth and let them fly free perhaps I could have a normal day.

It doesn’t work

I do not know why they are there. I rack my mind to find some semblance of understanding. Why this uncalled for fear? Why do I feel like I cannot cope again, when I cope every day? Please somebody put them to sleep. I can’t take another day of tight shoulders and sweat… of threatening tears that never come… of analysing every word I say and every word said for some mistake that proves I am indeed stupid… messages not sent because I am afraid… constant busyness to quiet my screaming mind… fingernails bleeding from ripped skin … not near as painful as the damage in my brain.

Please help me