“How come you always stay in your room so much?” a little girl once asked me.
“Because I have anxiety, darling”
“Where is your anxiety?”
I pointed to my head. She nodded.
But that wasn’t entirely true.

I should’ve pointed
to my hands,
full of earthquakes and after shakes;
my arm,
blade rakes and skin breaks;
my smile,
nothing short of fake;
my whole body,
just one big ache.