My anxiety is a glass box
From which I watch the world
Pass me by,
A transparent barrier
That holds me prisoner
Day and night.
I see the laughter, joy, and pain,
Of truly living.
Things I long to experience,
But fear I never will.
I often wonder,
Is it still a prison
If the confines
Are the four walls
My mind created?

There is freedom in isolation,
in being idle and invisible,
where one could sit in muteness,
swim widely in dusk and ask,
"Am I really here,
if no one is around to see?"
A different kind of suicide

There is pleasure in being a shadow,
in pretending you don't exist,
to avoid acting like you do

Solitude isn't a time for me
to let myself free
but rather a time to free myself
from who I am

Outside the confinement of company,
I am anyone and anything,
I am someone else, somewhere else
I am alive,
but I am no one
I am alone

a.r.

When you live alone
you realize there is
no one else there to
**** the spider.
You have to do it.

I could tell he had
softened.
His texts turned to
satin
as he said
I miss you.
There’s a first time
for everything
and this was
one of those moments.
I said I missed him too,
and he let me know
that made him feel good.
And then we were two people
smiling at the piece of
technology in our hands.