Tunnel vision Dizziness No precision Almost gone Blurry vision The world spinning Vision fades Lights out Gone today
something feels off not wrong but tonight will be rough 9:47 my chest hurts so much i feel trapped in this shell of myself 10:04 dizzy, shaking, afraid laying on the bathroom floor nobody can see me 10:12 ive started to cry too dizzy to stand cant open my eyes my body is wrong 10:19 it will never be over drying the tears time go back be who they want me to be
eyes are dripping like gutters after the rain
hands are shaking like an addict's breaths are short and fast like someone who ran a race mind is stu-stu-stuck like a br-broken record
~When you have a panic attack, I want to just wrap you up in my arms and never let you go, never let anything or anyone harm you ever again~
Clouds yell angrily
Rain eats at the ground Screaming chaos swirls all around My head rolls back My eyes turn pitch black My mind starts to ***** My grip begins to snap I know I'm not crazed I know I'm still sane But the wind still rattles This broken window pane I have to move I have to do something I know I'll lose it if I do nothing I don’t feel okay I don’t feel fine I'm plagued by something I cannot define I feel dead Yet also alive I'm starting to wonder if I'll survive My mind goes astray My head starts to sway I have to run, I have to get away. Something pierces my petrified panic Permeating peace Out of darkness I fall Hearing heaven’s call Perfect release Though I’m still left sore From that horrid dream God, it seems, sees so much more
this moment suspended in time
observed closely through the lens of my perspective becomes a thoughtful synopsis an autobiographical excerpt that encapsulates a bigger whole
This is an old poem from my notes that I just found and lightly reworked. Enjoy
I sense a lot;
my saturated feelings consume me, eat me, clench my heart, and softly pet it as though it purrs for me to move, to breath, to keep existing, when no existence is enough for me to feel alive and present.
Panic stifles, suffocates.
My throat feels dry; a clump, that brings disquiet in, sticks there like a hull, a twig, and moves its sharper edges along my trembling soft insides. "Get out!" I would scream, "Get out, worries and my fears. Remain, serene feeling."
Pressure around my lungs cutting off the air
Agitation and alarm shooting through my veins Negativity surrounds my thought in a haze Inkblots in my vision from asphyxiation Crushed with the heavy weight of it
Part six of a series I'm writing called "The Little Words".
Alliteration isn't cheesy
Not for me. When I use words to stave off the clutching squeeze of A panic attack I can write: "There is pressure on my chest and I feel anxious." or "Pain presses me into purgatorial prayers." Alliteration becomes the stutter into which I Skid to a stop
Today has been a rough day. Here is me, publicly coping.