“You’ve made me feel like ****, again,” I say
to myself mentally,
Aiming it more so towards my anxiety
Yet again.
Another snooping situation, mixed into the
incapability of walking away.

I can’t leave things alone.
My mind wishes to know every ounce of
detail but I, personally, don’t really care.
I want to write, sleep and live freely
without a form of worry blanketing me and
stopping me from breathing in deeply to
calm down.

However I let it do what it pleases,
regardless of whether I’m stuck with a
depressed feeling and sorrowful tune
surrounding me.
I tell myself, “You just have to ride through
it.” And for the first time, it’s easy,
But after that it becomes tiresome and
boring and all you want is for the feeling
to go away.
I am the only person who can make it go
away, but I can’t.
I hold onto it unintentionally, as if a part of
me will disintegrate if I let go.
And so we fall into a never ending cycle of
my anxiety,
Where I ask myself continuously “When will
it end?”
And my mind tells me it’s not entirely sure
but that I should be grateful for what it’s
giving me.
That it’s giving me safety and
cautiousness, helping me not to be
percieved as too naive.
But I don’t care for that much anymore.

So instead of ridding of my anxiety,
I’m always ridding of those who
unintentionally and unawarely have
created it for me.
It’s easier to be rid of you physically than
of something within my own mind.