Clonazepam, Lorazepam, Diazepam, Alprazolam, if you've been acquainted with benzodiazepines,
Then you will know the hassle that I hearby mean.
Names so crazy it's like they fit your mind,
Yet without them they can be so unkind.

Clonazepam, Lorazepam, Diazepam, Alprazolam,
Tiny little pills, oh how you can truly and seriously help me to heal!
Yet, you make us happy as we should be without you to feel,
Because I'd rather remember you as an old friend who was there for a while to keep me "still".

Clonazepam Lorazepam, Diazepam, Alprazolam...
I know it's hard to say goodbye,
So for now I'll just say "goodnight",
And maybe one day I'll see without you-
the true happiness of daylight.*

❥

Panic ridden mind stricken by this manic state of own biological rediscovery. Sickening self reinvention to endure retentive attention seeking habits. No longer recognizing myself or the difference between empathy and affection. I always wanted to be better for you rather than be better for me, and I ran that tank until it was on E. 'Cause when you decided to leave, when you failed to find reasons to stay and you finally went through with it, I became nothing. Redeeming qualities deemed ineffective and vanished with you. So, little demons crawled to me in my sleep and chewed small hollow holes from that hole that would once hold my soul and tainted it, forcing me to relive this cursed role.
I can't think of a reason why you should've stay, I just wish it didn't hurt so much. It was never about you being there for me, it was about you having the decency enough to tell me why you weren't, but, I guess I lost that, now, but it's okay, because these demons never leave my side and even worse, they've become my best friends. We're even on a first name basis. Their names are Apathy, Depression, Self Loathing, and Panic, and they are absolutely everything to me. Like any truly symbiotic relationship, we all need each other to survive, and I'm doing just fine, thank you.
Duplicating split personalities muiltiply until I can't even fathom the idea of feeling alone. Fractions of me split off and bolt for the corners and I feel like I'm stuck in a constant game of 52 pick up. Each time they're reglued, they're slightly less than they were. A conscientious objection to the dedication embedded deep withing lifes finest lies, why lie and say life's worth it? 'Cause sometimes I'm certain that this life is just worthless.
But isn't that the point to it all? To find meaning in the nothing? To make symphonies out of pure static, white noise? To sort through the distorted rumors and false claims and find real happiness? To smile in the rain, and frown in the sunshine! To turn left instead of right, to pick day instead of night. To make yourself alright. To breathe when our demons constrict our throats, and to hold our breath when we're excited. To live like we're at a party but we didn't get invited. To open your eyes in the dark and close them in the light. To breathe in life. To exhale strife. To brag about all our tragedies like "Look at me, look at what I've been through to bring you this message today! I'M ALIVE! I SURVIVED! I MADE IT! I'M HERE!"

Sleepless nights bring anxiety and frights
The forcing and suffering
Continuously have
Me wondering
What is it that holds me hostage?
A grip so tight im suffocating as breathe trys to escape me
Do I surrender and just let it be?
Do I fight against she or he?
My chest tightens as my fear rises, looking an unseen force in the eye
Praying that it stops its rage and says bye
A prisoner in my own mind, thoughts race, twist, and bind
Repeating like a broken record
Except you can't
Move the
Needle
And make it
Stop
Oblivious to what's normal and sane*
A prisoner
I
will
Remain

She doesn't know what to do anymore.
Her heart pounds around her until it feels like a stampede -
About to be trampled.
Help her. Help her.
She falls asleep every night after her anxiety fights its way through her medication -
And beats her until she bleeds.
But sleep is no rescue -
Because the devils in her dreams.
Demons, dying, monsters, heartbreak, torture, humiliation -
She can't escape the hell that invades sleep - and is still waiting for her when she wakes up.
An animal - poised to rip out her throat.
She wakes up already in the middle of a panic attack - praying only drowns her thoughts in thinking.
And every second of every moment of every day that she's stuck in her various prisons -
Drags on and digs into her like nails until she wishes she could just find the blood, find the wound -
So she could mend it.
No one else seems to be bothered like she is - no one else understands what it's like to live in panic.
Almost done with her 11th year but there's still always another. Another. Another.
Doesn't want to let her meds take over - because the second she falls asleep -
She'll have to wake up.
And waking up is the worst part.

He looked into my eyes, deeply, and seldomly blinking. His body was trembling, as if the very earth herself quaked within his veins. He was breathing heavily; the intake shallow, the output, shallower still. His skin was damp from the nerves, of course, not the heat. For it had barely begun. He reached for my hand and held it tightly and a part of me, for but a moment, enjoyed the fact that he needed me. He clung to me with his face pressed against my chest occasionally emitting a quiet moan. Eventually, I felt his wet warmth soak into my shirt. It hurt me, but I didn't make him move. I stayed still and held him until the panic attack was over, until the wet tears dried. This is how I defined my love; how I make love. Acceptance, compassion, guidance, and a friend.

Sudden
Abrupt
Unexpected
These words describe a sensation
A sensation that fashions the soul
Molding, sculpting
The person I am today

Hyperventilation
Nausea
A sudden rush
Adrenalin
Slamming doors
Crowded, congested
Populously packed into a box
Air tight

Repetitiveness is a quality this one sensation possesses
Repeating
Over and over
Repeating

Fearing it
Fearing it's repetitiveness
Repeating all over again
Preventing me
From opportunities
Simple, basic, opportunities
While I'm still stuck
In the box
That populously packed box
All alone

Shouting
Till my larynx  
Rip and tears
But I'm left
Abandoned
With no response

This sensation
The panic
Has no end

Ten times harder
Ten times slower
Before
Ten time lighter
Ten times faster
Before
I lose it altogether

Seeing sunrise and sunset
Is a blessing given to us
By the complex thing called life

But when seeing sunrise
Turns into a ball of dread
At the pit of your stomach
And when sunset brings worry
Of the forthcoming night
And the dreams
That may lay within it
They are no longer blessings

And the days are *cursed