My shoulders are delicate
But don't assume that
Fragile
Means "Nothing".
My trapezium is a mountain
And my shoulder blades are devastating tsunamis.

I started to settle in
my skin for the
first time as I began
to believe
that these bones
will one day
be a thing of the
past.

But like the dust
that has collected
on my hindered-hopes;
I will brush off
these worries
of a better life,
and use them
as my motivation
for tomorrow.

Anxiety is not a feeling
As some of you may believe
You wouldn't be alone
Because plenty of people place it in the same category as
Sad, angry, elated
But one of these things is not like the others.

You see, anxiety is everything and nothing
All at the same time.
Anxiety is when no matter how spacious the room is
It seems to be getting smaller
Until you can see every intricate detail on every wall
Each corner touches your skin
And flattens your chest
As it rises and falls
Your breath is getting short until it stops
And then you become as functional as a corpse
After all, isn't that what you are?

Anxiety is
When your love stands over top of you
Watching your diaphragm as it rapidly pulsates
Wishing he could hold your hands as they sweat profusely
Wanting to breathe life into your convulsing body
But instead, he cannot even grasp the concept
Of why you are not alright.

Anxiety is
Accepting that your reality is not truly real at all
And deciding to realize that people wish they could fix you
But understanding that they don't know what to do
And you don't either.

Anxiety is
Learning from all the
You're blowing things out of proportion's
And
You put to much pressure on yourself's
When you begin to have these panic attacks
In which you feel like death in imminent
Over trivial things.

Anxiety is
Being with people who love you
And still getting bursts of loneliness
That ignite and explode inside your pores and underneath your skin
The blood flowing silently through your veins reminds you
That you are all alone.

Anxiety is
Relating each and every thing you do
To how you are not adequate
And how you must take charge of everything.
It influences the things that tell you
"Make yourself throw up"
And
"Skip that meal today."
Most times, you shoe it away with every particle of strength that you have
Other times, you are not so lucky.

Anxiety is hard to personify
But it is.
And as I muster up the courage in my soul
And the hope in my being
I realize that those things need not be stored
Because I use them every day as I fight this battle.
We are all waging wars
Mine just happens to be against
This thing that is so intricately woven into the chemistry of who I am.
It is a part of me
But it is not all of me
And my voice is louder than this sickness.

I love you.
I mean not just you.
I love a lot of people, a lot of things, concepts, etc.
But anyway.
I love you.
Notice I'm not saying I'm in love with you, because that's different.

And I realize and I know.
Not many people feel it like me.
Some days I think my purpose is to give as much as I can and get nothing in return.
I am simply made to feel empty and alone, no matter what.
That's no one's fault but my own.

See, if I could help it, I wouldn't love you.
My love, my affection, my thoughts, my feelings, ****, even my presence is wasted on you.
You couldn't care less what or where I am.
Who I'm  with, who I'm *******, what I feel.
But, I can't hate you for giving me feelings.

It's not YOUR fault I'm like this.
I know I know I know.
But it doesn't help that you nurture my feelings.
When you touch me like you might care.
Like holding my hand in dark rooms. Like kissing me softly.
But you don't care. At least not sober.

I am constantly bending over backwards for anyone.
Even a stranger.
I want to make everyone happy.
I want to help people.
But I can never do it for myself.