My chest is heavy

Calm down you say

My breathing is rapid

      It's no big deal you say

My heart is racing

     What's the problem you say

My words are caught in my throat

     She wants attention you say

My head is spinning

     She is being dramatic you say

My whole body is trembling

     Why do you act like that you say

My tears won't stop falling
    
      Don't act so weak you say

My screams echo inside my head

      It's just another day you say

My mind broken and realing

      You're so bothered by little things you say

My heart is shattered, unrepairable

Why do you say all these things you say
When you have experienced a trauma that leaves you with ptsd any little thing can be a trigger
Mary L May 17
It's cold outside.
Dad says later it might rain,
So bring an umbrella.
I don't really feel like bringing an umbrella.
Goosebumps prickle my arms
As the air lightly brushes my skin
And the car door opens with a squeak
And again
Like every other friday
Instead of the mall
Instead of friends
Instead of dating,
Like every other girl seemingly does on a friday
I visit the hospital.
The washed out walls,
Broken smells of disinfectant,

Oh my god

And I start to disassociate,
This blurry veil as comforting
As the constant ringing,
I can't feel anything,
I can't even feel my heart beating in my chest,
All I hear is a small voice telling me to get back
Wear a smile
Plastered solidly
Until the clock strikes
9 pm.

My feet,
Unaware of the rest of my body's turmoil,
Carefully bring me forward
And I hear yelling,
And my dad takes my hand,
Tells me to breath.
1, 2, 3.

Look down.
Never look into the doors because what I might see might
Scar me.
This parallel universe where nobody is genuinely happy,
The morose clouds on a horizon where we could be normal.

Look down.
Because the stretcher isn't empty
And something smells awful
And I just want to get to her room
Already.

The door is faded,
And scratched,
And opens at a light touch
But I can't really see anymore,
And my breathing is labored.

The ringing, incessant,
When I see her bed.
My heart hitches and my eyes cloud,
And I slip.

On the ground and this veil has lifted,
The bruises dotting my arms
Tubes in and out of her body
This sick taste in my throat,
And the monitor singing a song,
Maybe Queen or something
The first time I truly have ever seen her like this
The first time I didn't ignore the fact
That she was dying
The first time.

And I get up.
Slowly.
My heart in my ears,
Sweat dripping from everywhere,
A heave and I'm gone,
Running down the halls
But dad tries to catch me
But I'm almost at the door
But I'm almost in the street
But I'm running away from her
It's my fault,
My fault she's like this
And I feel so bad.

This wind whistling in my ears
The ground, hard and greeting to my feet
The puddles splashing
Rain smells beautiful.

My dad finds me under the tree.
When you say that life is easy,
a little frustration is as bad as it gets,
I ask you what you were doing at age six.

were you running through the park?
playing with your friends?
doing nothing much?
careless of the world?

What if your whole life is determined at age six?

When I say that life is hard,
it's never been a good thing,
you ask me what I was doing at age six.

I was running through the fields, hoping I'd forget.
I talked to almost no one,
doing nothing much.
I cared too much about the smallest things and just hoped that it would stop.

Six was the age I accepted that I would never be happy.
I knew I was different but I thought it would fade,
that maybe I'd forget and be able to stay.

But my whole life was determined at age six.
KM Hanslik May 11
"I want to go away"-
take me out of my skin, it never
fit me anyway.
Braid knots
in my lungs. Leave the imprint
of your fists on my
ribcage, I'll keep it tucked
out of sight. Don't touch me
in the daylight, everything we do
must be a secret. It'll be four or five years until
I forget the way that you said my name and the rush
that comes along with.
I know I've been branded with
the aftermath of everyone else's
trauma, but yours
never felt too heavy in my bones. I feel that I could absorb
each ache like
getting drunk on pain, but the hangover
would be loneliness instead of
a poisoned liver.
I always had this suicidal tendency
of dying to help others breathe,
but I didn't realize I'm just handing them
more weights to sink with. If I'm not careful, they might
drag me along too. How do I clean
out my closet without making
a mess of the dust left on
old skeletons? They remind me of everything
I know I should never do again, and everything that pierces
my lungs in sharp desperate fragments when I remember
where I was before. I want
to make a clean break from myself.
I want
to patch up the holes and move on but sometimes I'm tripped up on
this or that or forgetting
how to breathe again.
Take it out on me, god knows that's what I
would do.
Illya Oz May 5
I didn't write my essay...

Because in a room of silence,
Everything feels so loud.
My brain is screaming at me to run away,
Like the paper in front of me has claws and teeth,
Just waiting to tear me apart.
I want to tear it apart.

I can feel it bubbling and boiling up my throat,
Suffocating me so the anxiety can breath.
But I can't breath.
When did this silence become so deafening?
I had a SAC (a very important test) yesterday. I've had a really bad depressive episode for the past week, not able to concentrate in class and kept telling my teacher I was fine. I wrote 3 sentences for an essay that was ment to be 600+ worlds long because I was so anxious. I wrote this poem on the back on my essay. I wonder what my teacher is going to say.
Alter Ego Apr 27
keep control
keep control
keep control

never stop
never stop
never stop

as the adrenaline pumps
and the world becomes beautiful
and your eyes become brighter
and the day seems clearer

are you ready to begin?

or are you waiting for the symptoms to subside

so you can go back to school

where you MUST laugh at the worst jokes
because the world is clearer

and you don't want to miss out on the day
do you?
Pure Bliss Apr 24
The darkness that surrounds you,
Comes from inside you,
Those attacks of panic,
Making you sink like the Titanic,
You try and try to stop the water from coming in,
But the hole in your heart is too big,
Between death and life,
Throughout your strife,
Throughout your battle,
I am completely rattled when those doors open in your heart,
They let all the water come in,
And down you go,
Like a gun and a doe.
Shanne Apr 20
I woke up today and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

The grips of a dream tightly coiled around my throat as it forced me to acknowledge it.

I was a failure.

That was basically it.

And I knew that grades don’t define who you are, but they get you into university, they get you a good course, a good degree, a good job.

Money.

And then I won’t have to suffer living without it.

And I knew that money don’t buy you happiness, but they buy peace of mind.

How many times has my mum stayed awake worrying about how much to give and how much to keep?

One time my mum refused to send money back for the treatment of her grandmother. Not because she was selfish, but because my brother and I had taken to crying because we had no lunch.

She found out I hid away in libraries to stave off hunger while my brother hid in toilets.

Her grandmother died less than a week later.

The way guilt plagues her every breath even now…

Since then we vowed as a family to share what we have, even if we have so little.

Money buys safety. There are two red flashing lights on my mum’s dashboard of her car. When she took it to a garage she was told she’d have to get it fixed for a ridiculous amount of price because her break pads had no grip and her steering was askew.

She refused to pay that much for her own safety because her mother’s sister just died and someone has to pay the funeral.

Now she prays extra hard every time she drives.

Money buys my future.

Money.

If I fail my exam, I won’t have it.



Now I’m in my brother’s room because apparently I screamed into my pillow and apparently the panic attacks were back.

I called the school for a tactical day-off.
Illya Oz Apr 18
The the words whizzing around my head,
A swarm of bees around my ears,
So loud I can't think,
I'm sorry what did you say?
Sometimes I'm silently freaking out in the middle of a conversation and if feels like I can't concentrate on anything or hear what anyone is saying.
Anno Apr 14
why won't someone tell me
what they know
or is it all a show
I can't really tell
the spasms
touches of sarcasm
the flakes of fakes
like a self conscious woman
I follow you
blindly
i follow
but now i wallow
as your actions hit me
like a heart attack
maybe I am just being dramatic
It's a panic
shaken bones
my mind has grown
It's just a panic
a panic.
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