Please just tell me
One more time
Breath, just breath
No, not so fast!
So I breathe in slow but instead of breathing in
and breathing out the anxiety
I breath in more anxiety the anxiety of breathing in and only getting more anxiety gives me anxiety
so I hold it
I hold my breath until every sound every figure dulls and blurs and fades with me
Til my heart-rate slows until my body aches for air, it cries for air but my cry for peace is much greater and even at the greatest sense of alarm my will to quell the never ending buzzing in my heart shuts the creature down and gives into the mind
The second hand becomes is millisecond hand the world fades... the buzzing stops.
But ****, I gotta breath. I breath in a swarm of bees- a hive in my chest every second aches me and every modern inconvenience a sting to chest.
So maybe, just maybe, the whole "breathing thing" doesn't help
Puh-lease just tell me one more time
one MORE time
that it's all in my mind,
all in my head, all in MY control, tell me tell me TELL me.
I cannot wait, for me, CEO, Commander-in-chief, owner and operator of this broken terrestrial vehicle, this flimsy floppy bipedal flesh sack that some tainted white-light was poured into by some divine comedy to call the man in charge that oh-so-happy-hoppy dopamine and ORDER him
to GET ******* pouring and while you're at it go and fire Cpt. Cortisol he can't tell the cunting difference between a fire and a ****.
Please send me more motivational quotes so I can "Go get 'em" and remember that "every failure is just a learning experience" and to "**** the haters"
but how do I **** myself?
**** myself... maybe that will bring me down... give me 20 minutes OH WHO AM I KIDDING give me 30 seconds
I mean, really anything to soothe the bees
Why don't you go ahead... go ahead, advise me on what to do
Tell me about how sometimes you have bad days-
tell me it's hard for you to go from work to yoga to the gym to your friends house then home with only a hour left and still decide to make lunch for the next day (to maintain that ideal diet) about the difficulty you face in getting up from the couch from that point of utter exhaustion that desire to sit still and consume bright lights until your night light becomes day lights... but you got up anyway!
All the while I cried in bed.
Why? Who ******* knows. Wait, wait, wait... you're telling me sometimes sheer existence isn't enough to destroy you? You're telling me you can draw a straight line from event to emotion every time? You're telling me you don't lie to your coworkers about what you're doing for lunch so that you can go to your car and drive to the NEXT parking lot over only to be alone in the uncomfortable quiet of your car where you can just sit and scroll and scroll and scroll where nothing can distract you from distracting yourself?
Well, this is awkward.
OH! OHHHH! Run! Drink water! OPEN AIR!?
HOW HAS THIS CONCOCTION ESCAPED ME FOR SO LONG? I should have listened more in Sunday school.
So here I am running and sweating and drinking only for the water to turn right into sweat that stings the chaffed skin under my eyes from rubbing plum-colored bags waiting for that genie to come out and grant me sleep. Sprinting. Violating my body's every signal to chill the **** out, like I've ever listened.
And honestly- I think it spooked the bees. I think they froze in fear over the tossing and jostling of their home.
I stop to breath, to **** in more anxiety, so I must run more.
So I run, and breath and stop to heave in more anxiety then run some more.
And I run and will run until I think of some better way or hear some better advice or die or whatever makes you comfortable with this line - what do you want to hear? Fade? Vaporize? Stop?
Well now I'm exhausted and drowning in the water I drank. Thanks.
For now I'll be the world's greatest actor. The charlie chaplin of masochism!
You were right all along, it's all under my control. I could've pretended long ago!
Any other ideas?