I'm not sure what's real and what's fake, or what's good and what's bad, or even why I am still here and not at home and just sleeping relaxing letting go. Instead I am here. I am trapped between four men and three strollers and too many cowboy hats to even remember how many there actually are. All I can focus on is how absolutely terrified I am and trying not to disturb anyone but also trying to get enough air in my lungs that I don't suffocate.
But that's really really really hard to do especially now especially here
So please excuse me for a minute if I make myself small or if I start to whimper or if I cry a little bit. It's nothing I can help. But the worst thing about it is that when you're afraid of parties or stepping into the pantry or the city bus, it sometimes feels like there's nothing you can help.
And trust me when I say that almost nothing is more painful than being useless.
A friendly message about claustrophobia, people. Forreals.
Oh my god. I've been neglecting my babies D:
I've been out for a while, eh? Truly sorry about that. Last time I wrote was what, two months ago? I'm so sorry, guys. I hate myself ;____;
But I'm back now, see? I'm back with even ******* poetry. Aren't you glad? I am. I missed y'all. <3
Anyways. I'm back with a poem about anxiety (hooray, I know). So, here you go. I'm just easing back into it, I promise I'll be getting slightly less ****** as I start to write again more.