Anxiety is not a feeling As some of you may believe You wouldn't be alone Because plenty of people place it in the same category as Sad, angry, elated But one of these things is not like the others.
You see, anxiety is everything and nothing All at the same time. Anxiety is when no matter how spacious the room is It seems to be getting smaller Until you can see every intricate detail on every wall Each corner touches your skin And flattens your chest As it rises and falls Your breath is getting short until it stops And then you become as functional as a corpse After all, isn't that what you are?
Anxiety is When your love stands over top of you Watching your diaphragm as it rapidly pulsates Wishing he could hold your hands as they sweat profusely Wanting to breathe life into your convulsing body But instead, he cannot even grasp the concept Of why you are not alright.
Anxiety is Accepting that your reality is not truly real at all And deciding to realize that people wish they could fix you But understanding that they don't know what to do And you don't either.
Anxiety is Learning from all the You're blowing things out of proportion's And You put to much pressure on yourself's When you begin to have these panic attacks In which you feel like death in imminent Over trivial things.
Anxiety is Being with people who love you And still getting bursts of loneliness That ignite and explode inside your pores and underneath your skin The blood flowing silently through your veins reminds you That you are all alone.
Anxiety is Relating each and every thing you do To how you are not adequate And how you must take charge of everything. It influences the things that tell you "Make yourself throw up" And "Skip that meal today." Most times, you shoe it away with every particle of strength that you have Other times, you are not so lucky.
Anxiety is hard to personify But it is. And as I muster up the courage in my soul And the hope in my being I realize that those things need not be stored Because I use them every day as I fight this battle. We are all waging wars Mine just happens to be against This thing that is so intricately woven into the chemistry of who I am. It is a part of me But it is not all of me And my voice is louder than this sickness.