"Give me 5 minutes," I say
To catch myself
To own my ramped emotions
To collect the beast and put it in a box
To give birth to an imitation of who I think I could be
Who I think I should be
Someone the people want to see

Whose not anxious or worried
Or any of those dictating synonyms that describe my beast
The one who taunts me

And sometimes, even flaunts me
As a danger to my own wellbeing.
Who I try so desperately to wash away with a sea of tears
And shrink with reason and motivational videos
And fight by just "getting out there"
And by "not eating alone in my car after class ".

"So just give me 5," I say.
To pretend I'm ok.