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Eating out is a nightmare
as every meal dissolves
into a food poisoning scare.

Riding the merry-go-round
is a disaster, your claim of being allergic
to horses forces them to shut it down.

Google is your friend,
symptom searches are endless
whether they're real or pretend.

While reading this poem
you begin to feel a bit worse for wear,
wishing you were in bed at home.

Brain tumor is your answer.
Sore throat?
It's probably cancer.

You're not sure if your back hurts
or your kidneys are failing,
neurotic to a fault
you call in sick to your own wedding.

You even press for a second opinion
to see if it's serious,
nonetheless, we do wish you a speedy
recovery from your imaginary illness.
Busted! Caught again
In a battle for your brain
Oh please, don't pretend

The nights! And the scares
Guilt built up inside your skull
Oh please, let it end

Curled, crying lies
Awake! Inside his eyes, glossed
In a withered glow

Oh! It asks as he
Blends into his wallpaper:
"Oh please, where'd you go?"

~Humanity, I don't know~
Mare Jan 2017
My sister says she hates living in this house
Because we don’t wash our hands and forget to flush the toilet
She is a germaphobe who falls sick more than anyone I know
She is the reason our house is more ice pack than freezer.
I hate living in the house because
They never lock the doors and they put air conditioners
In the windows that led onto the roof and limited my escape routes.
I guess both our reasons stem from our fears of dying
Except she is scared of what’s inside of her
And I am scared of everything around me.
anonymous Feb 2016
Health anxiety.

You google one thing and it says another.

You have a headache and it says its cancer.

Countless trips to your family doctor.

The test was negative, you will recover.

Everything is fine but you’re feeling awkward.

Maybe everything IS fine, perhaps you’re like an actor.

Acting out the symptoms you should get an oscar.

Sue me for feeling like somethings not right, get me a lawyer.

To everyone around me, i’m like a destroyer.

I need to rebuild my life from being an over reactor.

Theres a fine line between normal worry and anxiety.

Theres a fine line between being labelled from society.

Theres a fine line between being sick and being healthy.

But even those who are wealthy are not protected from being unhealthy.

And thats where this fear has developed.

Knowing the highest of classes still are not protected.

CEO’s can get cancer.

The president can get Alzheimer's.

Investors can get tumors.

Is it really so peculiar that I fear that this will occur.

Occur in me? Effect my family? Increase mortality?

Maybe i’m not a clinical case of a hypochondriac, but I feel that sometimes I can be.

Maybe i’m not a maniac, but I know I over worry.

These thoughts don’t keep me up at night, but when I’m sick I always think...

What if its this, what if its that, what if this thing can **** me.

But I guess thats just normal anxiety.

Evolutionary instinct.

Our human kind won’t go extinct.

I don’t need to talk this out with a shrink.

So this cold is lasting more than a few days, maybe i’ll just go to a doctor.

Stop fearing that this is the end, see someone and you’ll feel better.

You can get sick from being stressed, or even change from weather.

Its not strange if you catch a cold, no need to worry it won’t last forever.

When you feel like the doctor is wrong, please try to remember.

A runny nose isn’t cancer, forgetting to check the mail isn't alzheimers, and a headache isn’t a tumor.

Those are all just internet rumours.

Google isn’t your doctor.

Worrying isn’t hypochondria, no need to add that to your self diagnoses list.

While disease is a real thing, worrying is the real *****.
Laura Dodds Feb 2016
Living a hypochondriacs dream,
Because my pain is one that is real.

Everyone says I'm fine,
But I know my own body because my body is mine,
Life developing as a double exposure,
In two places at once and contained in a tight enclosure,
Here I am with no sense of closure,

I will dream of running away,
Throwing my possessions away,
Put my worry to rest,
Before I am the one put to rest.
Davis Gloff Sep 2015
I had a little headache yesterday
But "little" headaches leave me in ill humor
because I know (and very often say:)
"I don't get headaches! It must be a tumor!"

When I get aches, it fills me with misgiving.
For any symptom, even though it's vague,
I've known this much: as long as I've been living:
Each little pain must be bubonic plague.

I never had a tiny ailment yet
But I was sure was going to cause my death,
And every case of pimples that I get
will shortly make me end up like Macbeth.

A doctor said the malady I fight is
Called terminal acute dramaticitis

dag 11/10/2013
Everyone is high
On self pity and
Self diagnosed with
A terrible
No one knows
How to be sad
Without writing it off
As extraordinarily bad
Happiness isn't
A permanent gig
It's always there
If you bother to dig
Everyone is sad
Because the world is ****** up
And no one dares
To see the good stuff
A world of pessimism
Breeds angry babes
And they all start to believe
Theres no Other way
So load up on drugs
Get high in the rest
Because that's when the world
Looks its ******* best
No one was taught
How to smile
Despite the world
Looking dark for a while
So we all slit our wrists
And demand sympathy
From a world that never cared
If you were down on your knees
Xyns Feb 2015
What is, for you,
A raindrop
In a puddle

Is, for me,
A hurricane
Over the ocean

What is, for you,
A crack
In the pavement

Is, for me,
The beginning
Of an earthquake

What is, for you,
A simple,
Minute step

Is, for me,
A monumental,
Colossal devotion
The Whisper Aug 2014
Explain it to me.
Help me understand the fear that lies within me.
Why I suddenly feel that my candle of life,
Is quickly burning away at both ends of the stick.

The fear, the fear.
It continues to grow.
From the seeds of paranoia that I personally sow.
Is it all in my head, or is the danger really there?
None the less, the uncertainty is what I cannot bear.

Every cigarette I've had.
Every time my throat aches.
There is no medication for regrets and mistakes.
Ignoring the warnings does not make them untrue.
Being ignorant can only lead to the downfall of you.

Diabetes or Cancer?
Malignant or Benign?
Everyone tells me that I'm, *probably fine
But they don't understand that the battle inside,
Is convincing myself that it's all in my head.

It's nothing. It's nothing.
Miguel, you're okay.
These are the mantras that I repeat every day.
To myself in my head, or out loud when alone.
Hoping that one day my health will atone.
Hypochondria. I don't know why, but suddenly I've been giving a huge crap about my health. To the point where it actually keeps me up at night. I just had to let out my frustrations somehow. So here's a window into the anxiety that I feel.
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