Anxiety is being unable to breathe
no matter how hard you try.
This life isn't glamorous, it's messy.
It's tear stained, exhausting, painful.
It's a feeling that never goes away.
Friends tell me to relax, just breathe.
All I can say is I can't.
Relaxing isn't in my vocabulary.
They say this isn't normal, but how
can they be so sure if they don't get it.
It's just another day. And I'm alone.
My one-dimpled smile faltering,
knowing my normal is their worst day.
They don't understand this burden
of always being scared, worried, alone.
My mind's reeling breath shuddering.
Feeling the popcorn textured
picture covered walls closing in on me.
The pinks, greens, and whites of
my dorm warping around the space.
If I were to look in a mirror, I would see a girl
shrinking under the weight of her mind.
But instead, I stay on the edge of my bed,
going through the usual motions;
inhale, hold 2, 3, 4, exhale.
I wrote this poem about my struggle with anxiety, and how, sometimes, my friends really don't get it.
This poem was submitted to Telluride Institute's Fischer Prize poetry contest.
