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i have anxiety
undiagnosed.

sometimes it feels like my head is stuffed with crumpled ***** of paper: the things I never said, the things I should have never said, the things that someone never said to me.

all of these things are written on every piece of paper
there are so many right now that no more would be able to fit
yet i can't stop thinking things, i can't stop saying stupid things, i can't stop wishing things.

i sigh I reach up to my forehead and i grasp my bangs
with my shaky hands and pull

i'm hoping one day when i do this
the top of my head will yank open
all of these crumpled pieces of thoughts
will pour out in a pile
on the floor
i will kneel down
and uncrumple each and every piece
i will read each one
until my head fills up again.
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
IamThatGirl
just breath, in and out
surround yourself with peace all around,
but when time stops and the instincts kick in,
that is when the horror story begins,
first I get cold and I feel so old,
then I get numb and feel like i´m suddenly dumb,
my mind turns to a cloud and all the sounds are so loud,
I start to shake violently like an earthquake,
remember to breath everyone always tells me,
but its hard when you loose all control,
and people telling you what to to gets so old,
panic setting in and there is really no words to describe the
stress i´m in.
either I ill finally calm down or I will collapse lifeless to the ground,
and what was the cause of all this horror?
I don´t know but I will wake up and go on like there is no tomorrow.
Im trying to gt in contact with the cause of my extream anxiety. And Im trying to word the feelings out to get a greater knowledge and hopefully work with it i therapy and make it a little better. My challenge to my next meeting is to be able to sit still in a chair without distracting myself for 20 seconds at the 20 second mark is usually when I start to hyperventilate. Wish me luck
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
Bee
hell is a place where
you constantly love those that
do not love you back.
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
ali
gray
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
ali
i've run out of poetry,
and now all i'm left with
is gray.

gray surroundings,
gray people.
i'm lost in a world
that's lost in itself.

i can't find the words
to even say what i'm feeling,
because all i see is confusion
staring right back at me.

i'm in a room full of mirrors,
my own reflection
not appearing
because i've lost myself
in the depths of my thoughts.

someone,
please find me,
someone, anyone,
i'm gasping for air
that's not even there.

no one understands,
yet you're all here to listen.

there's only one problem.

i can't find the words-
i've run out of poetry.
my solution to having writer's block but also desperately needing to write at the same time
I think
as artists
we owe a lot to pain.

Put on
a robe of thorns
and write

about the nice weather outside
and that delicious burger
you had today.

Write about happiness
when you're in pain-
beauty.
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
levi eden r
my friends looked at me like there was something wrong with me when i said i wasn't afraid to die anymore.
how our school shut down and how after everything,
i listened to us go in a circle and share thoughts like,
"it opened my eyes. i'm happy nothing happened to us. i want to live, this life is worth living for."
i listened to them with envy and sadness.
when they all looked at me to agree,
i couldn't.
i told them it didn't matter to me.
usually saying these things would bring tears to my eyes,
but alana, ryan, jessica, emily,
i can't feel anything but sorrow and grief.
i told them how i would sacrifice myself to keep them alive.
"don't say that", they said.
but it's true.
they told me how they would stop coming to school if i departure.
i told them i didn't matter and to pretend like i never happened,
like i was never here,
real,
breathing.
i told them that my ashes deserve to be flushed down a toilet like the fishes that died 2 days after winning them from a fair.

because i am nothing.
instagram // @introawake
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
zb
paper birds
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
zb
it's one in the morning
and i have so many emotions
swelling in the space between
my lungs

the space where
i imagine my soul
resides

i don't know
why, but i feel
i know
that my soul is a tangible
expanding, moving
thing
trapped in my ribcage
my fragile bones are
a birdcage for
the paper bird that is my soul

it really does feel
like it can fly
sometimes,
like now
the darkest hour of the night
or when
i let certain songs
permeate my skin
and sink into my bones

my soul is an *****
visceral, necessary
for my very survival.
a comforting weight
in the space between my lungs
when i lose my grip
or my breath
i can feel it, always there
it grounds me.
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
zb
i've been taught
that i can't trust the
people i should be able to trust most.
so i stopped trusting others.
and started closing myself off.

i wonder,
what is the ratio
of tears i've cried silently
(sobs i've suppressed into my pillow
gasping breaths that hurt my chest
hiccups, undoing the fibers of my lungs
wheezes, like those of a drowning child
all so silent.
i can't let anyone hear.)
to tears other people have seen.

what is the formula
i need to learn
to both protect myself
and keep myself from ruin?

because, surely
if i let others
see me at my most vulnerable
then i will expose my soft heart
and my fragile bones.

because, surely
if i do not let others
see the pain i carry
then eventually i will fold
under its weight.

what is the mathematical constant?
is there anything that stays the same?
is there anything that i can cling to?

i've become so afraid
of showing anyone anything
that no longer are my darkest fears secret.
now everything i am is.
everything i love is a deeply-kept secret.
even passing interests
are never spoken of
unless i am absolutely sure
they can't be used against me.

i've been taught
that the very words i speak
the thoughts i formulate;
they don't matter.
my opinions
come second to everyone else's.

i would ask you to trust me
and take this poem as something meaningful
but i've been taught
that trust will **** you
and my words are insignificant.
 Apr 2018 Cass Indigo
Noone
what do I say when they ask me?
were you a friend?
were you a lover?
maybe just a painkiller
to soothe me for a while
yes, you told me all I needed to hear
you held my hands and looked into my eyes
you told me I am the most beautiful of all,
caressed my hair, and kissed my lips
a kiss like a magic spell

Now your effect is wearing off
making me feel all the things
it hurts so bad I cant tell
yes, you were my fantasy
My illusion, my fairytale
I lived my dream for a while
and now that I m wide awake
the illusion has faded
and the fairytale has ended
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