It's the end of the semester.
It brings along all the pressure.
To pass my exams.
I really hate this sick program.
And thus,
The teachers throw stuff on us.
They realize they don't have enough,
In the stupid grade book.
To make it look,
Like we've actually been learning.
It's actually quite concerning.
Especially since it's an education system.
But whatever, next semester will be a repetition.
I can't do anything about it.
You'd think that'd help my stress levels a bit.

I am like the color yellow.
Because loneliness is a close fellow.
If you get too much of me at one time,
You will soon be at the end of the line.

I am like the color yellow.
But today I'm feeling a bit blue.
I wish people liked me, like they do you.

I am like the color yellow.
Good in moderation.
Bad when used in excessive decoration.
The color yellow is a lonely color.
Yet all the other colors are so much duller.

I am like the color yellow.
Because loneliness is a close fellow.

I don't want to do any of this anymore.
I just want to walk out the door.
I've been tired of this for such a long time.
I keep waiting for all these dots to align.
Right now, that doesn't look like that's ever going to happen.
They're all spread out without any rhyme or reason.
These dots won't connect.
I feel like a wreck.
I stuck in the middle of this.
With dots representing my existence.

I can't keep going.
I feel like I'm overflowing.
I feel trapped in all my emotions.
They build up waiting to ignite an explosion.
My body seems to have forgotten the ability to breathe.
All of this anxiety that's been hidden underneath.
The walls are closing in on me.
"You're fine, you can do it" they say.
I strongly disagree.
I want to make everyone go away.
I am not a window display.

And I try so hard and I never exceed

your expectations that plague me

I cannot see,

In front of me

Your judgment clouds my vision.

And now I can't make decisions.

Anxiety sets the tone,

Of how I'm all alone.

I'm afraid of failure.

I just wish I was someone greater,

Than me.

I'm sure everybody would agree.

She was a girl with a soft heart.
She was a girl who thought everyone was a piece of art.
She was a girl who cared about people.
And out of the blue came something lethal.
To **** the girl who was so loving.
Oh, death is coming.
Oh, Around the corner.
Certainly she is a goner.
But what is this?
It missed.
The sword that brought her death.
Did not take away her breath.
Death then turned and left.
The girl had passed the test.
The only problem now.
Is that she now learned how.
People die out of the blue.
It is reality that she now knew.
She could never view,
Life as she used to.
So it haunted her like the rest of us.
But I will stay quiet now, as this topic is something no one likes to discuss.

I just have to make it look the best.
Or I will be beyond stressed.
Everything has it's place.
Okay, okay, okay, I just need some space.
Just to think.
It's like I'm out of sync.
I won't feel better until it has no errors.
I'll just keep going on and on forever.
Because once I start I won't ever quit.
Alright... I admit it.
I'm a perfectionist.
And I must say that it doesn't come with many benefits.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Here I go down this route.

Wish me luck.

I'm way beyond stressed.
There's so many tests,
I have to pass.
I'm as fragile as glass.
I feel like I am going to break.
I hope I don't, for my own sake.
Anxiety seems to take root.
I wish I could put my thoughts on mute.
They swirl around me,
Making me feel dizzy.
I feel like I am going to break.
I hope I don't for my own sake.

My thoughts are always going.
They show no sign of slowing.
They crowd around me.
They don't plan on letting me go free.
They need some sort of payment.
I pay with my own solitary confinement.
I'm locked away.
So here I have to stay.
Locked in my room every day.
My thoughts say that if I go out.
There will be no doubt.
That I will regret this breakout.
My thoughts make sure I know that this is a crime.
I decide to go, just this one time.
My thoughts won't let me speak.
I manage to get out a squeak.
And to my thoughts' delight.
It seems my thoughts were right.

‪Sometimes my anxiety makes me retreat back into a dark cave where I don't talk to anyone and I try not to think about anything at all because if I do then all the other thoughts come rushing in and Im swirling and swirling and swirling in thoughts and I can't stop‬

‪So I retreat into my cave and I don't think and I don't talk and I don't do anything.

And the only thought I ever seem to let through for some reason is a depressing one.

I think about how I am wasting my short little spec of a lifetime hiding in a cave from myself and others and I feel guilty and sad and self conscious about all of my decisions.

My thoughts ******* out of my cave and I try to talk to someone. Not about my cave or about how I feel sad, but instead I ask them about them. People like to talk about themselves.

A quarter way into the conversation I start to doubt myself.

I question whether or not I am enunciating or maybe I am being creepy and asking about their life too much? Was it creepy that I asked her if her dog was still sick because she told me that last week and I don't know if she appreciates my remembrance or is unsettled by it.

My thoughts swirl around and around until I eventually just retreat into my cave again.

Let's talk about this.
Because I feel like I'm about to fall into that deep abyss.
Again.
So, let's listen to me then.
I want this to end.
You keep on talking about my weight.
I'm sure you do this, to motivate.
I know I'm ugly because I'm fat.
I know you all have been thinking that.
"Your shirt is looking a little tight."
"I'm sure you have a big appetite."
"Here I bought you a shirt that's 3 times the size you actually are!"
"You have a two piece swimsuit?! That's bizarre!"
Just leave me alone!
I get it, I've grown!
We are all going to die.
So why do you care so much about my BMI!?

Problem after problem plagues my life.
It cuts through me like a knife.
I haven't slept.
But I have wept.
I walk around all hallowed out.
Any feelings I have, I do not want to talk about.
I've lost too much.
I have no crutch,
To help me walk.
I fall.
I have no one to help me up.
So, it seems that I am stuck.

All of my poetry feels the same.
But, what is to blame?
Is it what I feel?
Is it the reoccurring events in my life?
Is it who I am?
All of my friends are liars.
I've been thrown into the fire.
Again.
In my head a voice rings.
Telling me,
That nobody likes me.
And its been telling me this for a long time.
And so, I have become a mime.
Stuck in a box.
Oh, what a paradox.
An invisible voice locking someone in an invisible box.

Every person has their own set of problems.
Everyone at one point or another hits rock bottom.
So don't tell me.
That I'm not even considered a priority.
Don't say to my face.
That I'm an ungreatful waste of space.
Don't