#panicattacks
Minute One:
Stop whatever you’re doing.
Look around.
Hear the room.
Smell the air.
Feel your pulse in your wrists.
It doesn’t get to win.
Not now.
Not tonight.
Minute Two:
Sit up in bed.
Feel your body pressing into the mattress.
Feet planted,
legs tucked or stretched —
notice them. Ground yourself.
You are here.
You exist.
You’re alive.
Minute Three:
Water.
Drink.
Not slowly.
Not carefully.
Just gulp.
Taste it. Feel it.
Know you are alive.
You are still here.
Minute Four:
Light.
One switch.
Not all.
Push back the dark.
Watch shadows retreat.
Feel the space stretch around you.
Darkness does not claim you.
Not yet.
Minute Five:
Get your phone.
Text one person.
Not an essay.
Not a confession.
Not a question.
Just “hey”, a meme, nonsense.
Let them know: I’m alive.
Minute Six:
Big breaths.
Not small.
Not careful.
Fill, hold, release.
Again.
Force it if need be.
Remind yourself,
“I exist.”
Minute Seven:
Hands.
Clench.
Release.
Again.
Wake up.
Muscle, pulse, bone.
Feel it all.
You are stubbornly alive.
Minute Eight:
Rant.
Out Loud.
Scream if you must.
Whisper if you need.
Say the thing eating you alive.
Empty it. Spill it.
Let it exist
outside your head.
Minute Nine:
Eat something.
Whatever.
Just something.
Chew. Taste.
Focus on it for a second.
Notice the texture.
Let it remind you,
you’re here.
Minute Ten:
Stand.
Walk if you can.
Move somewhere different.
Anywhere but here.
Notice the floor beneath you.
You are not stuck.
You are moving.
Every step counts.
Minute Eleven:
Check your phone.
Look at the first text.
Reply.
Or don’t.
You tried.
It counts.
You reached out.
That’s proof.
Minute Twelve:
Breathe.
Again.
Slow.
Longer than before.
Count if you need.
Five in.
Eight out.
Repeat.
Minute Thirteen:
Look around.
Touch something real.
Anything nearby —
wall, chair, fabric.
Feel it.
Notice its weight.
Its presence.
Be present.
Minute Fourteen:
Go back.
Pick any step.
Do it again.
Rinse. Repeat.
Refuse to let the spiral win.
Exist.
Minute by minute.
Keep going.
Minute Fifteen:
Sit or lie down.
Stay awake enough to notice.
Your breath. Your pulse.
The minutes passed by.
You survived fifteen.
You can do fifteen more.
You can do a hundred more.
Say it.
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 9:18 AM UTC
Tired of fighting my own mind,
Stuck inside, I feel confined,
Can't be myself, lost so much time,
Years pass by, can't press rewind,
Anxious thoughts like poisonous vines,
Blurs my view of the life that's mine,
Depression heavy, pulls over the blinds,
I sit, feeling stuck, so please be kind.
Tightness feeling around my chest,
Why does it feel like i'm holding my breath?
Think like an animal, trapped in a net,
Frightened, & scared, but starting to fret,
When I go out, it feels like a threat,
Feel like i'm weird to people I've met,
Consumed by the fear, a monster of death,
So I turn up the music, put on my headset.
Escape to somewhere that I feel alive,
Away from anxiety, depression, those lies,
A hand reaches out an anchor of hope,
Pulls me up from the blackness,
the slippery slope,
There's always light, there's always hope, there's always someone that'll help you cope,
Just keep doing the things that bring out that spark,
And you'll stand into the light, and out from the dark.
Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 6:53 PM UTC
Ten thousand screams, seething with rage,
Ten thousand cries, trembling with pain,
Merging into one, a relentless wave,
Years of feeling, fractured and fleeting,
Rushing through the corridors of my mind.
A violent melody, endless and raw,
A symphony stretching across eternity,
Then everything dissolved into silence,
I sank to my knees, drowning in emotion,
What was this feeling, unnameable, ungraspable?
It was everything at once, yet nothing at all,
Tremors rippled, inside and out,
Echoing through the fragile shell of my world,
The walls I built, brick by careful brick,
Collapsed in seconds, a symphony of ruin.
What was that feeling? They called it panic.
I thought I was fine, thought I was okay,
But was my well-being a masterful illusion,
A play I directed to soothe my mind,
To fabricate solace for my existence?
That feeling—everywhere, yet nowhere at all—
The tight, suffocating pain, piercing through,
Everywhere, yet nowhere, a phantom ache,
My world crumbling, and truth dawning:
I was doing too much, yet not enough.
It was cold, unrelenting, this truth—
Nothing is enough, not even everything.
I wanted to cry, not just inside,
But to pour out the ache that hollowed my chest,
Yet Death hovered, its blade aimed at my heart.
Cold, numbing, but somehow awakening,
I had to stop pretending, stop the facade,
To find the strength to truly be fine,
Not in illusion, but in truth’s embrace,
To seek the help that heals the soul.
Everywhere, yet nowhere at all—
The pain, the guilt, the resentment,
Aimed at everything, yet nothing at all.
And in that moment, I gave myself permission,
To not be okay— and that was enough.
-fir.m
Nov 28, 2024
Nov 28, 2024 at 1:44 PM UTC
Living with social anxiety,
Is like living in survival mode every single day,
Like trying to dodge loads of obstacles in a video game,
It's like standing on the edge of a cliff,
While your heart pounds out of your chest,
While you sweat & you overthink,
And you take shallow breaths.
You don't like crowded places,
Because when you're in one,
The panic attacks are overwhelming,
Self conciousness is not at all fun.
Try being around people,
While you awkwardly stand there,
And your mind is racing even though you don't want to care,
People start to notice, then people start to stare,
So then you end up stuck back in your house,
And depression takes a chair.
It's a storm in a teacup,
That goes round and round,
And you don't know what to do,
How to try and get back out.
Sep 28, 2024
Sep 28, 2024 at 12:57 PM UTC
like your mind is floating away,
and there's nothing you can do to stop it,
it will always have the final say.
it feels like you're dying,
like there is nothing you can do except from crying.
like there's a boulder resting on your heart,
as though the only solution is to rip your skin and bones apart.
it feels like you're going insane,
what the f*ck is going on inside my brain?
like you've just sprinted a thousand miles,
like you're an empty shell with black holes as eyes.
it feels like you're trapped
like your body has been hacked.
your head is pounding,
you're sweating,
your hands are shaking
you can barely breathe,
it's almost impossible to speak,
and it feels as though it may never end.
that is what it feels like.
Jan 14, 2023
Jan 14, 2023 at 5:51 PM UTC
they answered
acceptance
will cure your fears
but my question was different
will accepting my fears
will no longer give me
anxiety
or
panic attacks
either way even the situations were
different
they outcome was the same
me drenched in fears
every night
Dec 25, 2022
Dec 25, 2022 at 4:48 AM UTC
sunsets ripple across southern skies
like skipping stones across a pond.
i'm thinking about how we all die.
what will nothing feel like?
what did it feel like before?
i catch myself guessing -
the void and cold conjurings of a
scared temporary consciousness.
loneliness beckons and repulses me
in equal measures, existential inquiries
painting me into nihilistic corners.
is this just some brief gift?
i hem and haw and waste the light,
i become the universe i fear,
endlessly eating my thoughts,
embodying entropy as i gasp for air.
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 6:17 PM UTC
stop stressing out
they say
you have nothing to worry about
they say
but do they know that i get
so stressed to the point of tears
that i have panic attacks
in the middle of the night
when no one is awake
and thoughts race through my mind
the answer is no
they don't know
and they never will
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 9:55 PM UTC
I'm telling you that's it, I quit!
A year on now I weigh a ton,
drinking my way out of this pit.
Hotel meals with a book I sit,
a woman on her own must be fun...
I'm telling you that's it, I quit.
Day after day sleeping a whit,
puff in the lungs and pulse on the run,
drinking my way out of this pit.
Monday drive bawl or afternoon fit,
abusing I yell before the sun,
I'm telling you that's it, I quit.
A ring and a promise, we almost split,
I never home or seeking to stun,
drinking my way out of this pit.
I will admit I learned a bit.
Of colleagues and business I knew none.
I'm telling you that's it, I quit
drinking my way out of this pit.
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 9:21 AM UTC
Went and got a tattoo just for the needle
See myself out of body, I don't need her
Spinning till morning
Looking at old pics mourning
I don't know why it's happening again
I thought I was done being broken
In and out like the breath from my lungs
Fast heartbeat but not from the drugs
Please, no
Another low
**** me slow
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 10:35 PM UTC
Hey
I didn't realize this was
What it's like
Sitting
Next to you
And you're trembling
It's quiet
You know,
Your boyfriend came to get me
Told me in a hushed voice
"[She's] having an anxiety attack"
I paled
I should've researched what to do
But I sat there
Next to you
He handed you a rabbit
I remember you giggled
When it tried to eat your necklace
It was quiet
Soft smiles and trembling
I couldn't help you
I didn't know how to reach you
I didn't know that this
This is what it's like
I've seen this
Quiet
Trembling
Deep gasping breaths for air
That doesn't help
Quiet
Thinking
(I have to go)
(I've had this)
(I had gotten worse)
(Panic attacks)
(Anxiety attacks?)
I feel like sobbing
It's quiet
You smile
We both pet the rabbit
You stop trembling
I don't.
Aug 7, 2020
Aug 7, 2020 at 12:15 PM UTC
there’s a rabbit with moon hooded eyes inside of my heart
and every night she looks up to the stars
yearning not to break apart
my rabbit and i feel fine most of the time
but when she starts racing i cry
because my mind believes my existence is a crime
and my heart can’t take it
she thinks she must’ve stopped
so she relentlessly pumps
creating dangerous music; thud thud thud
and look! there goes my rabbit
thrashing around in my war torn lungs
creating chaos in case of catastrophe
because future battles must always be won
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 10:36 PM UTC
I try to tell myself everything I do is not for you
My life it revolves
The sun the stars the moon
I stand before the mirror trying to see myself clearer
Tears morph my body’s shape
Blurred like spilled paint
I whisper, “I hate you” as I stare at my face
I can’t breathe, so faster I try
Lightheaded vision, gagging, wanting to die
But the most I do is cry.
I drift lonely, lonely for you
You’re my depression, you’re my muse
Self hatred claims my compass,
So I follow it into the forest
And loathe your loving,
It infects me like fungus
Now I’m lost and scared
Inside my brain, you inject your lethal stain
I follow you on your path of wonder till I collapse
Exhaustion, pain, death, relapse
I idolize you and your flaws
How you seem so free
While around me forms a mist of misery
A clouded conscious with what I made you my life
Now I hate everything that I am,
And nothing’s right
Unmotivated, unsure
I allow you to engulf me; careless for a cure
I know what I’m doing but I don’t know who I am
Still on my knees I pray to you,
The blood slain of my own lamb.
My addiction to your presence has forced me to beg for more
I don’t know why I can’t end this war.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 6:05 PM UTC
First I feel it in my fingers and toes
The buzzing that grows
Grows into a quiver
From my thigh to my spine; a shiver
The pain of numb so few will know
Vision as black as crow
I trace my raised skin
What made the tingles begin?
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 1:57 AM UTC
It hangs in the air.
It. a poisonous cloud
heavy, smoke like, choking.
I can't.
It is dark,
It has captured.
It fills my head
fear, stop, numb.
I can’t think.
It has wrapped up my tongue,
controls my speech
slurred, empty, wordless.
I can’t speak.
It is in my eyes,
Dark, lifeless, scared.
It won’t let the word be seen.
I can’t see.
It has filled my chest.
It forces its way down my throat,
It pulls in my ribs,
It claws at my lungs,
I can’t breathe.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 8:49 PM UTC
The wasted years — four years of my life
Demons of mind, battles I'd to strive
The poor choices and all my hidden fears
The mess of my life and unseen tears
Blue Eyes begin to strain and heart starts to race
Can't even face family, friends and a crowded place
Shivering body and a bunch of crazy thoughts
Tightened chest and heavy breathe, the drought I'd fought
Finally, it's all over wishing a happy new year
It's the end of 2018, the month of December
2019 — a new beginning I've been waiting for
2019 — a new beginning I've been waiting for
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 5:57 AM UTC
It's in these moments of calm that I feel the most panic
These moments when the TV is on
telling me a detailed story of someone else's life,
these moments when I am the most distracted,
that I am also the most aware of what's happening inside my body
Inside my head
It's in these moments of calm that I am the most afraid.
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 12:56 AM UTC
From being said as "mad,wild and a good actor" whenever I got panic attacks in high school to becoming an insomniac now , not only I grew up,but my sadness also grew.
Probably, nobody understood what I was going through.
I let them use me, I let them take me for granted.
I am scared that probably, one day... I'd let people know my actual worth when I leave,when I go far away from this cruel world... Probably!
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 3:08 PM UTC
.
*… and the look of fear
co-existing with pain
on a contorted face
that knows
it is in mortal difficulty,
as ragged fingers
clutch,
clutch,
at a fire they cannot reach,
ripping agonies react,
to an enforced cardiac episode,
as blackness closes in
gravity heaves its hardest,
but the fall is fake,
a red herring in the event,
and the weight of the world
presses down, searching,
retracts
waiting,
presses down, searching,
retracts
waiting,
as breath is given freedom
in exhalation to the light,
that slowly rolls back
the pitch hue of the void,
returning back images,
feeling,
a new belief,
and the fire inside quietens,
and the fire inside quietens,
to the intense glow
of a burnt aching heart.*
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
depression is the ***** i want to punch in the ******* face
anxiety is her ******* side kick
panic dances around with them like a ******* background dancer
well have i got news
im done dancing
this is a fight i will fight
but not to the death
i will not let this **** me
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 6:49 PM UTC
I can't stop
Accelerating my the second
Salty tears are flooding my eyes
Air stuffing my windpipe
Each breath is spiralling upwards
I feel it all at once
Years of hungry pain rushing into me
The sorrow is starving for my cries
So it pulls and twists and stabs
My voice is muted
Death is craving me more and more
Longing to meet again
To bleed me dry
And drain me away
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
My relationship with mirrors is strained.
When I look I usually see what's probably
myself. I look better, probably, than before
when I slept no more than
3 hours every night
and spluttered through life
choking on words and stumbling over
misconceptions.
Now all of that is merely a buzz
trampled by a maximum dosage of meds
that let me function in life
but make everything a bit numb.
I much prefer numbness to personal nihilism.
Other times when I look in the mirror I
don't see much of anything.
When I'm in public and
the innocent looming presence of others
threatens my mind's fragile ego,
I see them abstracted in my periphery,
their glinting knives of eyes
sparing me a passing glance
(She's just smiling politely,
but my skewed eyes glimpse
faux teeth and behind them gargled, ****** judgements. I don't judge the digust.)
and I skim over a transparency
of myself in the mirror.
Too bad I can't actually disappear.
(Or maybe I can.
But I try to stray a little farther from those thoughts.)
Sometimes I feel heartbreakingly
ugly in that mirror. Lonely. Unwanted.
Even with all those doting eyes on me.
I feel relied upon for something. To be
the one who makes them laugh. The one
who fills the silence. The one
who works hard even with setbacks.
(Do they even expect that of me? Or do I?)
When
in reality
I'm none of those things.
Not truly. Not really.
Theres always that tug of opposition in me,
that feeling of ingenuity, a touch of facade.
But I don't want them to see an ugly side.
The side that mistrusts violently,
that lies stagnant with thoughts screaming.
Clamming up in the face of oppressing quiet.
The side
that rears its head when
they look a little too close.
Maybe it's my truest self, that broken side.
I wouldn't know. There
are too many walls. I can't even break them
myself.
Or maybe I've broken them all,
but I'm blindfolded,
feeling around an abyss with my eyes
wide open,
vision obscured by skin-tight fabric.
I could just,
untie that knot behind my head,
spiral further and further down--
just to feel something else--
But it's safer in this uneasy emotion.
I dont know if I'll ever find myself in
the mirror again.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 12:12 AM UTC
My turn to go up next.
The teacher glances toward me and nods.
I grab my instrument and walk to the front of the room.
A chair and stand awaits me.
I set the sheet music on the stand and take a seat.
"Whenever you're ready," he says.
I lift the french horn to my face and pause.
I remember the people before me who went,
eyes full of fear.
Hoping with every ounce of their soul
that they won't mess up.
My chest constricts tightly.
I struggle to take a breath, then begin.
The first note is perfectly on pitch.
So far, so good.
The phrase flows smoothly.
The piece goes well,
until I take a risky glance around the classroom.
A knot forms in my stomach.
Everyone is looking at ME.
Expecting ME to do well.
My fingers fumble as I miss a note.
I panic and rush the rhythms,
not caring if I miss the pitch.
I just want this TORTURE to be over.
Their gazes are icy.
The piece ends and I swiftly let my instrument down.
I hang my head low.
The ones before me look grim.
Surely I had disappointed them
The director says nothing.
The silence is KILLING me.
I feel my face flushing red.
The room is getting warmer.
"Next?" He asks, prying that I should take my spot.
I get up and take my things,
then do exactly that.
The next person plays perfectly.
I applaud with tear-stained hands.
They are praised well as they walk to their seat,
beaming in glory.
Who am I to pretend
that I understand this madness
called success?
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 7:00 PM UTC
you feel it happening again
the shaky legs
driving you insane
the sweaty hands
ruining your plans
the racing heart
making you want to dart
are they watching me?
what do they see?
I feel their eyes all over me
is this a nervous breakdown?
i really need to come down
get it together
you say in your head
but the voices don’t let you forget
you’re better off dead
stop it, stop it, go away
do not come back another day
it’s just chemicals in my brain
but all I can feel is pain
anxiety is not beautiful
it certainly does not make me strong
I just want to be normal and feel like I belong
panic attacks are not cute
and I cannot “just calm down”
it is a disorder and debilitating
it makes it really hard to breathe
average tasks become mountains
it’s not simply all in my head
it feels like I’m about to drown
but with patience and persistence
i will never back down
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 4:50 AM UTC