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It slowly creeps in all day,
Just thinking of excuses
So that I don't have to do it.
But is it real or am I really just excusing nothing?
All I know right now is that:
I don't want to do it.
Going is too social for me,
Repeating a message is too much,
And asking for cover contradicts the last one,
Not showing up will be noticed,
There might even be consequences.
It's not as bad as it has been,
But I still don't want to do it so
What can I do?
I don't even want this all to be happening,
I wish life would just stop,
Because everything is stressful enough,
Anxiety levels are heightening,
So do I just get out of it by not talking to anyone?
Maybe I can avoid everything by just staying here,
And doing nothing,
Just pretend not to be noticed even more,
Maybe then all of the things I get wrong
Won't matter anymore.

But I know when I get there it might be fine.
I'd be missing out on the classroom banter
That I will never be a part of.
Missing things I could be, should be doing as a sixth form student,
Because she's too scared it will be bad
And she won't be able to escape.
No one cares about that,
Because you're not a little girl stuck in a nightmare
And, the world won't wait for you to be ready.
It's just I'm tired because I've been chasing it for years,
To keep my head above the water even though I can't swim and I'm no good at running either.

Now I'm not even sure how I got here,
The anxiousness started yesterday,
But can I remember why?
I'm pretty sure I was just stressed with life so I thought about avoidance,
But this is one of my easier days;
So it doesn't make sense.
If I get out of this I'll be upset with myself:
For not doing normal things like everyone else,
But I never wanted to do it in the first place,
Which gets me to thinking
Did I work myself up into this state?
All on my own, without the so called "social anxiety" monster trying to catch me again?
Avoiding will mean questions asked,
Which means socialising
And probably ending up going,
Because if they're doing it I'll feel bad because they're in a worse place than me,
I'm just nothing.
This is why I want to just
d i s a p p e a r
Avoid all this fear
Why is that not possible?
Why can I not just stop it all.
I'll have to email to get the work anyway.
Existing causes so much hassle,
It's like attempting to live normally is an endless battle.
I know I swapped what person I was writing in but it was intentional because when thinking about something making you seem small it can be like imagining someone younger feeling how you do, also that may be easier to imagine by displacing your emotions from yourself and that's kind of how I felt when I wrote it I guess. Even though you may think it's stupid and I'll probably curse myself over and over for being annoying and doing it, this is why I kept it like that.
pretty Aug 2017
Being alone feels timeless,
it feels like I'm undressed,
just me and my body,
miles away from being suppressed.
this poem was made to express myself and what being alone makes me feel.
this is my first poem i love this site ****
em Jul 2017
she's got a broken smile
for a broken heart
she likes to hope
her brokenness
is a work of art
lost in herself
she cannot breathe
around him, around her.
too many people
who aren't falling apart.
a broken smile
with a broken heart
her father says
she's a work of art
Enyo Jul 2017
You: someone I don't trust.
My heart thunders out of my chest up into my throat;
I cannot breathe.
And the sound fills my ears, muffling your words.
The rhythm pounds away in my mind, scattering my sentences.
I am left drowning
in an ocean of mild panic,
believing
that every shaking syllable passing my lips
must hurt your opinion of me.
Ace Sargent Jun 2017
My fear is like a worn blanket;
it keeps me bundled safe from cold,
Protects me from intruding talons
that reach to break frail bones.

Its edges are torn and tattered;
Hairy strings scratch at my throat.
I sometimes hold it all too tightly
and it wraps around my soul.

It sees that scary people scare me,
and knows that everyone is scary.
But this blanket isn’t just a haven,
the people claim it “unhealthy”.

They tear at fraying threads and seams
and I screech for them to stop.
It’s so comfortable and warm in here,
and it very rarely gets too hot.

I’ve grown accustomed to its feeling,
but the mad people do not care.
They tell me “Be more social.
The world shouldn’t scare you dear.”

But this itchy blanket shields my body
when people venture far too close.
When they try to shove ideals and dreams,
down an already suffocating throat.

Why can’t the scary people see
That this blanket is home, is mine?
They cause the frightful disrupt.
They make the blanket make me blind.
new work! please feel free to leave advice on editing!
Alvira Perdita May 2017
i can't go to a bathroom by myself,
the overcrowdedness sets me off
like a firework on new years.

the fear that bubbles inside,
panics me to the point
of not being able to breathe.

is this what my life is?
being afraid of being alone
in a crowded room?

is this what i have become?
a walking ball of anxiety,
afraid of merely existing.

it's a living hell.
why can't i just be okay?
i wish i was okay.
boy, what a horrible day it was.
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