It always seems to happen at night.
It's been lingering around all day,
but no action was taken until tonight.
I could feel it creeping up the side of my bed,
cold and empty,
I felt it slowly take hold of me.
I could no longer breathe properly,
and my chest felt as if it was being crushed.
Tears found their way out of my eyes and down my face.
I knew there was nothing I could do.
There never is and there never has been.
This attack can't be stopped.
It could last for hours...
But I can't confess the stress it causes to anyone around me,
because to everyone else anxiety is just a made up mental issue.
They will never understand how physically suffocating it is.

This heart of mine,
it's been through more than I ever imagined.
I never knew that growing up meant that I was preparing myself for war.
I feel like every bullet has been fired,
I've been shot a thousand times.
But every time I think that,
another round comes my way.
I feel like I've died and been revived,
over and over and over again.
I feel like this is my last battle.
If I lose this time,
my chances of being revived are very thin.
This heart of mine is just too tired to fight anymore.

we were five and young,
we were alive and always sung.
that was when we were five
and then society came along slapping
us in our faces with reality, ruining our social graces. I no longer feel alive.

now we're fifteen and sad,
i'm drinking with my lad,
as i'm mentally sinking in my fears,
drowning helplessly in my tears,
barely passing classes this year,
as i hear people say, "Keep your head up dear!" As if that will help me. As if that will help me. As if that will help me.

**i want to go back to being five.
i want to feel alive again.