Anxiety is funny, if I’m going to be honest. Because you work so hard to not focus on whatever causes your anxiety that in the end, you’re really doing yourself a disservice. You end up focusing more on the anxiety- or it’s cause- that it’s counterproductive. And none of the tips you find online really help so you try to find your own methods, but let’s be honest. The only way it’s stops is if you have someone say “it’s okay”. And then you feel like you’re just annoying the person by having the same worries over and over and over again. So you, again, start trying to find your own methods. And again, you realize that it’s the outsider comfort that really helps. And then you start to feel helpless because you feel you’re becoming too dependent on the person, and you have no idea how long your anxiety is going to go on for.

And then, five minutes later, you calm down and think “what a silly thing to be worried about”. And that’s when you know you have a problem- because if it was something that warranted worry, it would start the cycle again.

noun | the way his hand rested on the small of her back. the curve of her hip pressed against his side. the soft click of a lock, keeping her in his gilded cage. it was nice at first, the way he spoke about her as a belonging. perhaps it was her own loneliness that made her crave his. the allure of fixing him was too enticing to deny, so she dove headfirst, recklessly swimming against his nature. but the explosion of a thrown wine glass on the wall behind her when she needed to leave, needed to get out, made her hate the naive girl she once was. and still she loved the way he pressed gentle kisses on her tear stained cheeks, apologizing and begging her to stay. and, despite herself, she knows she will.

I often wonder what it must be like
to not feel constantly isolated
by those who claim to claim you,
so-called alliances crumbling
when they realize your nature cannot be changed.
there are no rainbows in pastel skies,
and they love us until we are no longer PG
no longer PC.
love is love until you love like me

it happens quicker than you think
one day you're floating above the world in a euphoric cloud
and then you realize that your friends have all gone out without you
multiple times
and you're torn between wanting to acknowledge it and make them feel bad for leaving you out
and
wanting to leave them all behind and isolate yourself more

"how dare you talk to me," you want to scream at them when they approach you the next day
but the words die in your mouth and you're left blankly staring at them, a fake smile ready to curl your mouth

so what if you shed a few tears,
it's not like they cared anyway

i refuse to believe that teenagers can fall in love
maybe just to avoid thinking that i loved her

She turned her eyes to the night sky
Light pollution be ******
And spoke to the gods of her woes
Only the silence of a thousand lives on the ground answered her