There were days where I’d find myself to be happy
Because of a funny joke
or a good day
or a smile from someone across the yard.

But in the silent pauses of good moments,
this happiness would fade
Because of the constant worrying that happened
in my head

Worry came like a virus:
it started small and then escalated
Extinguishing every spark of happiness my body contained
And replacing it
With thoughts of death and starvation and ******
and war and loss and grief and—
it never stopped

Worry told me
that after a good event comes
the bad:
laughs would be replaced by
asthma attacks;
or good days only meant
that one was reaching the end of life —
slowly tunneling into death,
into oblivion; or
the boy across the yard was smiling
to use you
to deceive you
to one day, maybe hurt you.

My thoughts were no longer mine
As they fell into the hands of Worry
I had lost my identity —
my dreams, my interests
my future
To the devil in my head.

But Worry couldn’t stay forever.
When it had finished
swirling my insides
my body was left to feel normal again;
my chest was light,
my limbs stable —

but I could no longer obtain
the part I had lost to it:
myself.