i am lonely in a
body that has wasted
my skin to paper stretched
against collar bones and
my ribcage won't stop
trembling

i am isolated in a
body which hyperventilates
when it nears all things
sweet or salty or sour
or good because the weight
wrestling in the pit of my
stomach suffocates me

i am alone in a body
that aches for untouching,
unbruised skin and hair so
thick it'll never fall again but
it cannot give that to me any
longer because that would
mean i cannot be sick

i am in a body
that refuses to love me back

Just an average day in my average life
no cause at all for worry or strife.
But then it hits out of the blue.
This terrible feeling is nothing new...
So I sing the

Anxiety song
Anxiety song
Before its over something will go wrong...
In my anxiety song.

My hear beats fast and I can't get air.
I don't think straight. I'm so **** scared.
At about this point, I start to cry.
I really really wanna die.
But I sing

The anxiety song.
anxiety song.
A panic attack can feel so long.
Here's my anxiety song.

You want to have a good day,
but your brain is saying "no way".
Things are not ok .
Why can't it go away
goawaygoawaygoaway
goawaygoawayawayawayaway
[hyperventilates­] [gathers self]

It's the anxiety song
anxiety song.
I'm gonna finish it singin' strong.
It's my anxiety song.

the day i get into college,
my mother says she is proud of me.
her eyes water;
her little girl is growing up.
my hands shake in the passenger seat.
my eyes water for different reasons.

the day i go back to therapy,
my mother says she is proud of me.
she cries again --
it's a family trait --
and holds me in her arms.
i wonder how she could ever be proud of a child who is scared of recovery;
a child whose only discernible feature is the anxiety rocking in their chest.

the day i move into college,
my mother says she is proud of me.
she says it's a big step forward.
she appreciates that i'm taking a step out of my comfort zone.
i want to tell her that it's my comfort zone that's adapting to this new place,
not me.
my comfort zone is nervousness and never-ending panic;
it's just searching for new things to worry about.
goodbye is so hard.

i spend my first few weeks of college in a panic induced state;
weeks blur into one another and i stay in my dorm whenever possible.
i skip meals,
because the cafeteria is a long walk across thin ice.
everyone's staring at me,
this obese baby deer,
learning how to walk on legs that are too meek.
i sometimes call my mother in tears;
she says she is proud of me.
it's so refreshing to hear that it hurts.
there are wounds beneath my elbow where i took out the rattling of my bones during a meltdown in my design class;
they itch underneath the bandaids as she reassures me:
she's proud of me.

i can only imagine the look on her face if she sees what i've done to myself,
the seven shallow scars underneath my elbow.
i haven't done that in years.
will she pull me out of school?
realize the pressures of living is too heavy for me to wear right now?
too heavy for me in five years?
too heavy forever?
the word proud is lost on her lips;
replaced by the word sorry.
how could she ever be proud of a child who can't make phone calls without crying at least twice?
how could she ever be proud of a child who hyperventilates when a cafeteria worker scolds them for not using tongs?
how could she ever be proud of a child who found a frenzied comfort in a blade?
mama, are you proud?

she forgets to breathe in, breathe out sometimes.
she has to write the word in purple on the back of her fist.
she hyperventilates, then goes back to normal (repeat 5 times),
you'll see her, nervously scratching at her bandaged wrist.

she has to talk to her teacher after school some days.
let him know how she's been getting on in school.
the other kids are saying she's using him for plays,
but she can't tell either forces the truth.

she never told anyone about all this but me.
not even her boyfriend that she said no longer likes her.
nobody knows about her extreme anxiety,
sometimes I wish things went back to the way they were.