i always thought twenty would be an age of maturity
the age of "put-togetherness"
the age of emotional regulation

as i near the age of twenty now,
all i can do is sit back and laugh
how far i still have to go

i still feel like the same little girl who picked at every physical imperfection in front of a mirror
i still get the same sour feeling in my chest when someone criticizes me, i never got better at not caring
i still tap my foot repeatedly as anxiety pulses through my veins in a room full of people

nearing the age of twenty,
i realize i am still consumed by the anxiety i always wished would magically fade with age
mental illness isn't a phase, yet it's something i have to deal with for the rest of my life