They called him
procrastinator
but he only was
apprehensive of the fact
that his words
may go unrewarded
he always was so reluctant
to mold his feelings into words
and voice them out
that was only why
she never heard one reason
of why she should stay
losing her all hopes
tired of aimless wait
she decided to leave
he tried to say those words
but it was too late
drowning in the sea of regrets
his apprehension transformed
into full blown fear
about his words
going to waste
and remain unnoticed
it was then he decided
to follow his heart
and to never let his fear
make him lose
what he loves !!

Bugs are crawling all over my hands; yet they're the kind only I can feel and see -
the germs I visualise as cockroaches covering everything around me.
A 3rd change of clothes in 5 hours to protect myself against their power to bring me harm,
my umpteenth hand wash trying to get rid of them; my brain turbulent with alarm.

My head is noisy; full of chaotic sadness and voices,
peculiar images and blurry characters are all I can see - not by choice.
I cannot sleep or think let alone live,
waiting for The End; I went mad with the battle so determinative.

Sitting on the shower floor
with the water raining down on me more and more.
A map of water induced wrinkles trace my skin as if by disguise,
with a river I cannot stop running from my eyes;
intoxicated with madness, these voices I need to **** -
so with a bottle of ***** I wash down a pretty little pill.

Tonight I lay with just my teddy to hold dear; loneliness creeping in - no doubt,
feeling like a child who just wants to be loved and cared about,
wishing to be protected from the monsters inside my head
as I bury myself under my covers and cry myself to sleep in bed.

I can feel
Fear begin
To take hold of me

With almost every pulse
Of my weak heart
I can feel it with me
Like the remnants of drugs I created

Fear of nighttime
Or rather who takes its veil
And hides behind it
Outside of my window
In the places that we all don't dare to check

Fear of consciousness
As in sitting in a room
Where noise replaces oxygen
And being separated from
Any action or conversation
By a thick, bulletproof glass wall

Fear of conspicuousness
Like when you know
As you are doing something
That is secret or covert
You can feel eyes on your back
And you realize
That it is all over

Fear of loss
When everything is good
And your soul is finally mending
And your plans are unseen
But that sinking feeling
Settles in your stomach
18 hours later
The comfortable, warm feeling is stolen

My fears are more faithful
Than friends or lovers or family
They'll never leave me
Never let me feel alone
They stay awake with me
When it's two AM
And I'm frozen in my bed
Waiting...
for another sound

I wake in the morning and dread the day ahead,
it would be much easier if I could go back to sleep instead.
It is better than the torture of my disorder;
the voices in my head don't ask me things nicely - they're always an order.

My fear of vomiting is detrimental,
so the acts that I carry out are fundamental.
I do not leave the house; germs could get on my hands,
I always find an excuse for not participating in my friend's plans.
My hands are red raw and sore
from the excessive scrubbing; it's become a chore.
I have to put sanitiser around my mouth too,
otherwise my mind goes crazy - unfortunately that's true.

When exposed to a vomiting bug,
I completely stop eating and take an anti-bacterial drug.
I count down forty eight hours
before I can eat again; this is the extent of the phobia's powers.

When somebody mentions they feel unwell,
I avoid them like the plague and it feels like I'm in hell.

I think of the future and of the children I desire,
but the idea of germs and sickness around them is a taunt so dire.

I worry about vomiting every single day;
causing panic attacks and mental breakdowns - I want to run away.

People laugh at such a "silly" terror,
but for me it's a life-changing and deleterious horror.

In the darkness I live in,
There's a man so tall and thin,
And in the morning he goes hiding,
Though at night he screams I'm lying,
And in the night,
My thoughts break into silence,
A life remains,
Within the mist of phobias.

When the sun is up I find escape
From the demons in my head,
But as the sun sets here he's creeping
Through my mind as I am sleeping,
And in the night,
My thoughts break into silence,
A cry through rain,
I lost my mind in phobias.

If paranoia is my only friend,
Well I must fall with him again,
As he reminds me of my sorrow,
While I cry for a tomorrow,
I lost myself
In silence.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

They're all staring at me,I know it
I can feel their eyes on me
                    Judging.
                     Hating.
                  Condemning.

Everytime a group of friends giggle,I just know it's because they're making fun of me.

I asked my mom why one day & all she could say was "nobody's even paying attention to you kiddo. It's all in your head."

But I don't believe it. So I lock myself up in my room where I will not be stared at,made fun of & judged.

Behind a wall of glass,
And there's no turning back now.
I can't say why I'm here,
I can't speak any words.
I can't confront my fears,
And the sinking feeling is only getting worse.

In a glass box,
The outside world can't hear my shouts.
Water keeps filling,
My time is running out.

Can't break the barriers,
And no one's gonna save me.
My hope is wearing thin,
I sink into the deep.
The thoughts just race within,
My lungs gasping, my heart starts to bleed.

Bleed out everything I've ever loved,
And my dreams can spill their guts.
My bloodied hands,
Scraping, so tired.
I can't understand,
The point of my ******* desire.

Air escapes my throat,
Through a slit I carved by myself.
I'm in a glass box,
And the outside world is slipping away.
I won't wait.

Some fear spiders,
It is called arachnafobia.
Some fear hospitals,
It is called nosocomephobia.

But how...
How-
Is it called?

Xenophobia,
Fear of strangers.
Coulrophobia,
Fear of clowns.

But how...
How?
How do we call this?
The fear of myself.

singing in front of strangers
terrifies me to no end, I battle
my runaway heartbeats as they
fly and thud against my glass
chest; I feel the blood flush
hot and livid through my
limbs & search for cool
pillow sides to chill my
cheeks, wondering why the
only sounds I make
whine, how the mind can be
infinitely stronger than the
body how fear can run
through programmed behavior
why telling myself "you wont die"
is never enough to quell my
aching nerves—phobia is the
unswallowable lump in my throat,
the inexplainable fight or flight, the
"no" whispered in every language to
my gullible muscles—one day I will
sever the fear at its root and enjoy
the fruits of my own liberation.