Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018
I crave to feel less.
I have such a burning desire to radiate minimal emotion.
I cringe at the pain that my insides feel
EVERY.
SINGLE.
DAY.

Not the muscle pulling, stomach cramping, head pounding type of pain.
Not the open wound, burning, and itching type of pain.

The pain where your heart hurts, the kind where you bully yourself to tears. The kind of pain where you convince yourself that you are worth nothing.

That type of pain is anxiety.
When one fear turns into such a numbing sensation and one mistake becomes a viral failure ruminating the body.
Both shutting down what feels like every inch, ***** by *****.
That pain is when my anxiety is my kryptonite.
Written by
iamgoodenough
92
   Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems