I suppose now,
The time has come -

In spite of all,
At last;

To tread towards
The nearest sign,

To sojourn from
The past.

Fear and panic sweep over me.
I need to move
but I'm paralyzed by my need for normalcy.
One pop of a pill and it will drift away,
and I will sleep.

But sleep is for the weak,
or is sleep for the week?
That's what my body
bounces back and forth between.
There is no middle.
No start.
Eventually an End.

The inner meaning of desire
bounces from my heart to my head,
as if it is the ball in a pin ball machine.
I try to fight off this anxious feeling,
though it is a chemical imbalance in my brain.
Why do I fight with the chemicals in my body?

I fight to feel normal.
I fight to not rely on a simple pop of a pill that my doctor gives me.
She tells me to take it when I need it, she trusts me.
Sometimes I feel that trust is too much.
Because this anxiety is a metaphor for life,
and I know that problems cannot be solved, by one simple solution.
I fight to be strong.

I cannot get up, cannot move.
My body is limp and shaken
I am clinching onto things I never had.
Take my freezing hand
Pretend you know how I feel.
I want to roll over and sleep again.
I do not know if I can make through today.
This
Is
Not
My
Day.