Feeling Low

I am impatient. My heart is heavy, and my head is pounding. I want to lay down and just cry it out. I do not have that luxury right now though. I sit here waiting for the moment I can turn on the water in the bathroom and just rid myself of all this heavy shit. The Catholic girl in me is fighting with the Wiccan hippie I have become, and my head can barely take it. My pain comes, and God/Goddess/Universe only know why I have been chosen to walk this path.  I am just following it. Riding out the bumps and holes. Holding on white knuckled for the ride. Waiting for the remedy to hit my blood and give me some sweet fucking relief from the anxiety that paralyzes me. I will put a smile on my face when I need to fake what I am feeling. Anyone who really knows me knows I cannot hide anything because I show it all through my eyes. I feel transparent. The world can look at me and see right through me. There to judge. There to pity. I don't want a pat on the head like I am a fucking half step away from a straight jacket. Fuck you until you walk in my damn shoes for a day. You live with emtional torture.  I put myself through this daily by reevaluating my every step, move, choice, all of it constantly there to remind me I am imperfect because I lack the ability to restrain myself at times. I would love nothing more than to tell the little voice in my head to STFU, but who would I talk to if the voice leaves?