anxiety
My own mind is my worst enemy.
All of the ‘what ifs’ that I can never escape.
Trembling hands hold my wallet while I wait in line
Repeating, and repeating, and repeating,
like a broken record what i must say.
It never seems to work.
Even as a child, as full of life and curiosity as i was,
i would always ask my younger sibling
‘please, please come with me and help me, i can’t talk to them’
Friends I’ve known for almost a decade scare me.
Why can’t i just talk to them?
Why is it that every time my mouth comes up with something to say, my brain stops it?
A little whisper in the back of my mind,
they don’t care,
it’s not interesting enough,
it's not funny enough,
it's not detailed enough,
its too much now.
You’re too much.
See, I know it’s not true.
I can rationalize it now and see it,
but anxiety can be funny like that.
You can be feeling at the top of the world, but in one second it can all disappear.
You can still see it there, peaking through the darkness,
just out of reach.
The shower is a good place
to hide the tears,
to hide the sobs,
to hide the pain,
to hide the truth of who you are.
