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 Dec 2017 Hannah
Angela Rose
Anxiety is not cute, and it is not fun
Anxiety is not something to make light of and to pretend you have for giggles
Anxiety is suffering
Anxiety is waking up at 3 in the morning because I am so sick to my stomach that it wakes me up for an hour
Anxiety is my skin breaking out in hives so severe that I break the skin and bruise and bleed because I am scratching so **** hard
Anxiety is when I try to sleep at midnight but am still awake at 5:30 in the morning and I still try to count down to the second exactly how much sleep I will get tonight
Anxiety is when I cannot bring myself to eat even though it has been 31 hours since my last meal
Anxiety is waking up in the middle of slumber because I thought of what I should have said in an argument four days prior
Anxiety is how it is noon and I cannot bring myself to get out of bed and make my day real
Anxiety is how I have made myself feel like I am going insane and I feel like my breaths are short and nothing feels right
Anxiety is how things do not go the exact way I planned them to and I sit there contemplating crying for the whole day
Anxiety is how I feel myself acting like I am crazy and I feel that I am not me and yet I cannot change the way I react
Stop trying to make anxiety cute
It is not romantic
It is not adorable
It is not fun
Anxiety is what prevents me from living a normal life
Anxiety is what drives me out of my mind
 Dec 2017 Hannah
Angela Rose
Did you know I felt that our lives were undeniably tied together, irrevocably?
Like even if we fell apart and strayed too far away our paths would cross once again?
I felt that our bond was star-crossed and our connection was meant to be regardless of our star signs and past loves
I felt that our love was a story to be told through the ages and one to write down in the books
Did you know I felt that every single time we kissed the stars aligned and all the words I knew finally made sense for once?
Like even though the world was falling down and the things I knew were crashing down everything was okay because I had you?
I felt that you could grow to love me again despite having some girl at home wanting you to love her
I felt that our love story was almost too good to be true even though we only had relations through our kisses at 5 in the morning
Maybe it is me and my blind intuition to trust a stranger
But also, perhaps it is you and your need to feel a connection through past experiences with loved ones
Either way, I miss you
crumbs colliding
to form a singularity,
gave birth to my
own destruction
© Cyrille Octaviano, 2017
 Dec 2017 Hannah
Rae
Regular people
Don’t feel this way in their minds.
They must be so bored.
people who write poetry are definitely special.
 Dec 2017 Hannah
Seline Mui
A conquer of my dreams, reality, perspective in hand and in whole
Was just yesterday when she stood tall
Against an evergreen mountain
The wind's whisps
leaving lashes on her face
At an elevation like this one could smell renewal a rejuvenating aroma
As her breath travel to her navel in one
Quick motion
A blissful feeling of longing she always
Put herself on the pedestal
Knowing the self rejoicing rigidness
Her self-worth shone to be
An everlasting fire planted a seed
In the midst of her heart
An unshakable clarity and belonging
Swarmed her body in one action
As her mind drifted into a seemingly everlasting relaxation
In one exhalation drawing hands to the chest one palm ontop the other
She finally understood
A gift larger than life so valuable
That can only be acquired through
Real acceptance, the unconditional expression of self-love
From depression to happiness
 Dec 2017 Hannah
Seline Mui
Her anxious legs, her body feels the absence of the last smoke, the last snort.

She preps her shot thinking it will be boss but down the drain she goes.

She'll fight her mind, her body, her spirit, but doesn't know which way to go.

So her body decides, as she's screaming in her mind, let me go, let me go!

She preps the needle with the spoon as her priorities are left in the dust.

Everything ice cold but not that hole in her arm, it's slowly trickling out blood.

Seconds bring instant comfort, relieving her restless body and anxious mind.

She cannot bear the withdrawals that come along dragging her behind.

A sharp spear laced in poison detracting delicate skin to bruises and scars.

Unit, by unit, her shot dissipates and every inch of her eagerly awaits to embrace the rush of the high.

As time slips by, the high subsides and she is dry, all insecurities exposed in bare sight.

Panic..on the search..broke..fiending..stealing..robbing..lost loved ones..manipulation..broken promises..

The curse gets worse. It's meaningless synthetic comfort, the happy juice she can never refuse fills her receptors, a matching piece to fit the puzzle

The feeling can't be beat, a silent stream reminding her in her dreams creeping into the sunrise bursting with a desperate scream.

Worry and panic demands her full focus and the lies and deceit don't stop until fear of not having money has subsided. Begging and crying, playing the victim with no rest until she got her fix.

She's not happy, she feels dead. Synthetic pleasure breeds depression, and she's cannot function on her own, she disregards her responsibilities and continues to fail

Her presence overdue, regularly absent she won't pass, she'll miss out on every opportunity or simply won't care for consequences.

Dope is her only interest, where she pours all her energy and effort, she even proposed to forever be a servant, for what she loves most.

So much aggressive energy to remain living, guilt-tripping her lover into enabling her, she get's what she wants.

Time and time again until she drains his resources, with nothing left to give, he starves.

Confusion blocks her judgment as she believes the sickness is out to get her, but she has exhausted her funds too, tired of depending on her dope dictator, wishing to be free from the physical and psychological deterioration.

Her best friend ****** left her for dead, locked her in a cage kicking and screaming.

How much do you really love me?? Fight for me and score some more the funds to feed the fire, exhausted, not a dollar to my name.

Validate me, i'm what you need. I'll give you hugs and kisses, dreams of the childhood you never had.

Leave it all in the past because i'm the high that leaves you in a fragile state, mistake by mistake it's the price you will pay.

Near and far, nodding in and out, constantly chasing the dragon. Familiar pleasure filling the lungs provides the sense of stability blocking out pain and discomfort.

Oblivious to the vicious demise quietly poisoning your body, draining your youth as your life is dictated where the abstinence of dope exaggerates the sickness that overruns as you lose control of your life and question your purpose.

Losing touch with reality, addiction becomes erratic-out of control. You don't recognize the face in the mirror anymore, a slave to an demanding lifestyle draining you from the inside out.

Not sure your reason to keep living, hoping one day you can beat your disease never looking back. The day came, you're tired, you've given up, you need out. Looking back, you've accomplished not a single thing.

Only getting older with more expectations, forced to revaluate your progress, found out to be limited to none. You're so done.

Running with open arms into recovery is the only chance you'll succeed, and to breed your goals and dreams you need to believe. To put in your effort and defeat the beast thats waiting for the chance you slip up and bleed.

Take one day at a time, this is a must, far from simple , but you need to trust.

In yourself, a higher power, an inspiration, will be the motivation to reclaim your life back, claim true happiness, and become the best version of yourself
this is a poem about my personal battle with ****** addiction, hope you enjoy!
raw eyes
raw heart

open sky
new start
you are not an inconvenience to the world.
my dear, this world is an inconvenience to you.
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