January: New Year's Anxiety

Another year coming to an end,
and what do I have to show for it?

Filled with light regrets
and a shakey sense of hope.

Feburary: Relationship Anxiety.

The societal pressure
to feel true love,
but I can't feel anything,
at least not truly.

April: Birthday Anxiety.

I thought I'd have progressed
much further by now.
Will I ever learn?

I should be excited,
I miss being excited.

June-July: Vacation Anxiety.

Everyone around me
is having more fun.
I can tell by their photos,
filtered and posted
on a simulated reality.

August-September: Nostalgic Anxiety.

Crisp leaves and cool air.
Friday night lights and
high school regrets.
This season felt better
when I was a kid.

November-December: Holiday Anxiety.

Family, stress.
I should be happy,
but I feel so empty.
Attempts at connection
remind me how alone
I actually am.


And the cycle continues.

My type is flexibility.
My kink is versatility.

I try to draw into my life,
those of the same nature.

However, I find myself
attracting those
with a lot less elasticity.

Is it because they wanna be like me, malleable?

I try to help but there is no fluctuation.
You're so stiff, you just snap.

You give me nothing to work with, nothing willing to be formed.

How can you and I become we,
and we become one,
when you refuse to merge?

It was a dreary day,
not different than normal.

The sky was gray,
the air was damp.

My heart raced as I drove over the mountain.

I told myself over and over,
I am here to get better.

I will try to get better.

The doctor came in,
I started to cry.

I can’t let this out,
I will keep it inside.

As the time past,
that soon was a lie.

She asked me, “honey, do you have hope?”

I said “well, ma'am, I truly try.
I can see a better future,
But sometimes want to die.”

“Let’s try to fight these feelings,” she said.
“Would you try an SSRI?
We can face this as a team, you and I.”

I dropped my head,
I wiped my eyes,
I said “let’s give it a chance,
it cant hurt to try.”

Here I am.
6 months gone by.
I still feel alone,
but I don’t want to die.

I’m starting to see the beauty in things.
I’m starting to feel again.

Is this a chemical warfare,
that keeps me from feeling low?

Or is this a head trick,
a sugar pill,
a modern placebo?

Whatever it is, I am happy.
For a minute,
for a second,
for a moment,
I am happy.
I have hope.