My anxiety is killing me.
It hits me like a double decker bus,
crashing into me with full force.
Suddenly,
the school nurse is on the phone with my mom,
because I'm sick.
But really
I just can't handle the sinking feeling in my chest
and the nauseous feeling in my stomach that comes with anxiety.
I wish I could talk to people.
I'm worried I'll say the wrong thing,
or scare people away.
I'm worried that if I talk,
I'll say something personal,
and suddenly
there's a rumor going around the school
that I'm crazy,
and everyone will know I've tried to **** myself 16 times.
I have trouble going to school.
I can't handle everyone's eyes on me.
I wonder if they like me,
or if I'm just that ******* hard to look at.
Maybe they think I'm fat,
or that I look ****** up.
But it will never be as bad as the feeling
of constantly hearing the rumors about my ****** abuse
from people who don't know ****
and only heard it from the person who left me with that trauma.
I guess what makes it worse is that I lost a friend,
and even though that friend tells me I need to forgive and forget my abuser,
and she's a really ****** friend,
I really lost something that day.
A light in me died that day we fought,
a light that can be mimicked,
but never replaced.
Aug 30, 2025
Aug 30, 2025 at 1:29 AM UTC
My anxiety is killing me.
It hits me like a double decker bus,
crashing into me with full force.
Suddenly,
the school nurse is on the phone with my mom,
because I'm sick.
But really
I just can't handle the sinking feeling in my chest
and the nauseous feeling in my stomach that comes with anxiety.
I wish I could talk to people.
I'm worried I'll say the wrong thing,
or scare people away.
I'm worried that if I talk,
I'll say something personal,
and suddenly
there's a rumor going around the school
that I'm crazy,
and everyone will know I've tried to **** myself 16 times.
I have trouble going to school.
I can't handle everyone's eyes on me.
I wonder if they like me,
or if I'm just that ******* hard to look at.
Maybe they think I'm fat,
or that I look ****** up.
But it will never be as bad as the feeling
of constantly hearing the rumors about my ****** abuse
from people who don't know ****
and only heard it from the person who left me with that trauma.
I guess what makes it worse is that I lost a friend,
and even though that friend tells me I need to forgive and forget my abuser,
and she's a really ****** friend,
I really lost something that day.
A light in me died that day we fought,
a light that can be mimicked,
but never replaced.