Dating with anxiety
Is always over thinking.
The messages never replied to lead to the thoughts swirling through your head.
Every detail gets scrutinized.
Every moment replayed over and over until you can't think.
The little things that no one looks at become huge and the reason anything went wrong.
You try to be normal and not let it show because if they really know they will run away.
Being crazy isn't easy. The normal ones don't understand.
They don't get what your brain demands.
The need to be reassured and affirmed, to know that they haven't changed their minds.
But how do you say it? How do you let them into your hell? How would somone stick around after they understand the interworkings of the cells that create the mass that is you.
You spend the nights laying awake thinking. Wanting to just let it all spill out like a glass of milk knocked off the table but instead you walk on egg shells and pretend you're not internally freaking out. That you haven't spent all day looking at a message then closing the phone. Only to open it again and begin to reply ....but wait if you reply now you're clingy. But how do you gracefully walk the line between crazy and cute?

The answer.
You don't. You just silently go insane and internalise it all for the sake of saving face. To appear like the person they want. Because if you can be that then everything will be fine.

But what happens when the glass pane shatters when the mirror image you projected crumbles? What happens when the monster you've been shutting down for weeks on end to seem normal starts to seep through the cracks? What then? Will he still be there? Will he be able to handle it?

You go on a date and the conversation leads to "oh I have anxiety" he looks at you and just kinda shruggs. You glaze over the subject and move on. Like I had just said god bless you after a sneeze no second thoughts. No further questions. The cat is out of the bag but does he realize that by cat I mean lion? Huge, ferocious, dominant, lurking in the background ready to strike? No. Because I am a good pretender. I am good at making the facade up to par. What you don't see is the circus dancing around the erupting volcano inside. Every cell vibrating trying not to implode.

They don't see the girl who can't breathe because she is so far down the black hole that swallows her whole lost in the inner workings of her mind. Screaming to be seen and accepted. Begging to be allowed out. Needing to show herself.

But no. That's not allowed. Once it's out there it can't be put away. You cant just say haha just kidding. Because the damage is done. You've either found one who will take the shattered girl or everything you've thought would happen does and you're alone again.

A thousand, mindless bodies
      marching in front of me
on a familiar trail through
      misty, lush forestry
strained backs carrying towers
       of accumulations
free choices made with
       weighty ramifications
at the end of the path
        a ruinous shrine
as old as the surrounding
        coniferous pine
each soul shruggs off
        a singular burden
fulfilling each obligation
        of that holy bargain
now, encircle the tribute
        watch it all burn
stand in ecstacy without
         care or concern
I refuse to join this fever,
         can never be a believer
I accept my ethical freedom
          *my will undefeated

A young girl sits alone, scrunched in a corner of her room. She

Bawls her eyes out as tears fall onto her little blue dress.

Crying has become somewhat normal for her now.

Days like these, she tries to shut out the scenes of her father's raging

Eyes, dark and cold as he comes to attack her once again. For years, her

Father has been doing this to her. The worst thing is that she can't do anything about it.

Growing up without her mother to protect her, she doesn't see the point in living anymore.

Hatred fills her father's eyes as he looks her over.

In an instant, his fist connects with her tear-stained face, cheeks aching from the pain of his

Jolting actions. She holds her cheek as it pulsates under her fingertips. Her father's

Knuckles are ****** and bruised from impact, but he just shruggs it off as if it's nothing.

Looking around the room helplessly, the girl clasps onto her locket, dangling around her neck.

Mommy, she whispers, why aren't you here? Why can't you save me from Daddy?

Now is when the tears come flooding back, pouring down her face. If

Only she could run away. If only someone would notice the bruises that cover her

Pale skin. Why can't they see it?

Questions race through her mind: Why me? Who will save me? She

Realizes she doesn't know the answer to either of them. She doesn't know what else to do but

Sit in that corner, curled in a fetal position on the hardwood floor.

Time passes by before her eyes, each and every day.

Under her, she hears her father's footsteps inching closer and closer. At first they're soft,

Very, very soft. Almost as quiet as a whisper. Then, they increase speed, coming forth.

When he suddenly approaches, a smirk plays on his lips. She plays with the small

Xylophone perched by her frail legs, hoping the sound will drown out her father's.

You can only pray, a voice whispers in her ear. She focuses on that voice,

Zoning out the voices of terror inside her head.