All Posts, poetry, Uncategorized

Panic in class.

I’m okay. Yeah, I’m fine. This is just boring.

I’ll look at my phone for a second.
Even though I’ve been trying really hard to concentrate.

Wow. That’s boring too.

After this class I have to go do errands.

Those errands are related to my new job.

My new job has a lot of steps to start.
My new job is going to be very new.
Very new things scare me.
Scary things scare me.
Jobs aren’t a scary thing so why is it scary?
There’s no reason to be scared.
Why are you shaking?
What if I can’t do it?
It’s not that I can’t do it, what if I fail?
What if I miss something?
What if I don’t like it?

I’m shaking.
Stop shaking.
It’s not even cold.
I’m wearing a jacket.
It’s not cold.
STOP SHIVERING!

The crazy part is
I feel like I’ve been hit by a train
I feel like someone drugged me
I feel like I want to pass out

Yet

The girl who sits next to me has no idea
She has simply no idea.
I just look bored and zoned out
Shaking out of boredom
Little does she know I’m thinking about how to end this
How to end my life
How to end this panic
This panic in class.

Standard
All Posts, poetry, Uncategorized

Episodes NOT on Netflix.

My high functioning anxiety feels like…
And it also feels like…
And it kisses my forehead but its saliva seeps into my brain , and it feels like…
And my sentences are never complete because the snake wrapped around my throat feels like…
And sometimes when I think my heart is dancing it turns out it’s actually trying to escape and that, ladies and gentlemen, feels like…
And the tears in my eyes try to get me seeing with rose–colored glasses but sometimes it just feels like…
And the tears roll but there is no reason, it just feels like…
And the reason I can’t express how I feel is because I simultaneously have no feelings at all.
But when the episode ends, I’m me again, except what is me?
For, I’m not certain who I would be if there were no snake, no rose-colored glasses, or kisses on my forehead.
So next I ask, who are you?

Standard
poetry, Uncategorized

I am a try-hard.

I have been described as a “try-hard”.

My parents find that extremely shocking.

I don’t find it hard to believe until a lecture from my aforementioned parents occurs.

You know, the ones where disappointment is neatly sown into every sentence?

And here I thought I was doing my best.

Thank you for letting me know I am not.

 

“You need to communicate better”

But I grew up fearing the consequences of my words.

 

“You need to learn to be more independent”

You have taught me to live in reliance of you.

 

“Stop fucking around”

I’m just trying to cope with things.

 

“What do you even have to be worried about?”

I would make you a list but, as stated earlier, I am a bad communicator.

 

“I didn’t raise you to be like this”

Except, you kinda did.

 

“This is why you need to double check things”

Yeah, except if I doubled everything on my to-do list I would have a life-ending anxiety attack.

 

“You should have called me”

But I thought I needed to be independent?

 

“You shouldn’t have asked for their help”

Yeah, because you’re so readily available.

 

“Do what makes you happy”

But only if you approve, right?

 

“You’re not gay”

Please tell me that while I’m licking my girlfriend’s pussy.

 

I don’t know how to make you happy anymore.

I don’t know if it’s even possible.

 

But I’ve been described as a “try-hard”

so I guess…

that means…

I haven’t given up on every one

unfortunately, just you.

 

 

 

 

Standard