“Why am I so calm? Heh, that’s just it. I’m not.
It may seem hard to believe but I’m not as calm about everything as I look. Externally, maybe, but not internally. Oh no.
Internally I’m a gibbering mess. Massive anxiety. It’s ridiculous really. I’m moments away from collapsing at all times. Like, a hair’s breadth from apocalyptic meltdown. Constantly.
It’s just that my outward appearance is controlled by my near crippling depression. And it doesn’t give a fuck. My anxiety grows and my depression feeds off of it, like some sort of pathetic leech. So it isn’t “calm” you’re seeing; it’s apathy.
But I am afraid, don’t get me wrong. Of everything.
I feel the same fear when I wake up in the morning as when I get up on stage in front of a crowd. Imminent pain and daily social interaction are equally terrifying. I’m in constant fear of every little thing.
That’s the irony of it. I’m so, so scared, all of the time. But that constant fear paradoxically means I stop caring.
You see, when you feel nothing but abject terror all the time, you go numb.
I’m so afraid, so worried, so paralysed by fear, that I don’t give a shit anymore.
That’s why I look fine.
Because I am entirely, unequivocally, not.”