My thoughts frizz and sizzle away incoherently
Killed too soon by my anxiety.
You asked what's wrong with me
And thought I was exaggerating when I said everything.

Write. Write it down- make it rhyme.
That'll clear my mind
Stop the darkness from clawing it's way outside.
Make a list- that's what she makes me do.
Make lists for everything from weekly chores to properly cleaning each room.
Lists lists lists lists lists.
I can't take this.

Anxiety. That's something wrong with me.
Why right now I'm crying in fetal position shaking violently.
Introversion. I'm scared of my own voice- though I've been taught it's a voice that's wrong and insignificant-
I'm scared of it.
Weakness. I can't stand up for myself
Protect myself from this awful hell.
I can't be good enough.
Never good enough.