anxiety.txt

If a bad, unsettling thing is taking place,  
Making me humiliating in my inner space,  
At some boiling, anxious pace.  
Holding tightly, proving biased case,  
Losing the sight of self-knowing’s sole grace.  
I’m just consolidating my inner defined haze,  
To make things appear true in my defined chase,  
To claim my augury true at every place.  
Handling, exploiting inner flowing, mazy pace,  
Imagining to feel hard the defined charm to chase.  
Knowing this decision of self-harass,  
But this is so smothering, exhausting case for himself.  
Where the world is just the consolidating of inner defined haze,  
Blaming world and stuff to be constructing mess.  
My face, my fears, guilty gears and all phrase  
Are working only to fulfill imagined embrace.  
Even this is something been given to me by some random accidental bass,  
Originating from some muddy collision on rough surface.  
This blaze has, if you see, innumerable face,  
None of which has their own eyes but handed gaze.  
While there are either none or all sovereign hands,  
Just like cloudy shapes, random patterns intermingled colors have forms in void names.
Can't hide the rigors
Of anxiety and fears
Even knowing what it harbors
Can't cloak their effects from mirrors
It figures
Such a force can disfigure figures
Right under the skin it lingers
The worst possible time is when it appears
Rears up to rip down the facade and veneers
The you you knew is what it devourers
What good are middle fingers,
When only directed at yourself?
For now,
I guess,
I'll have to put that question on the shelf
How would I know I’m not a heavy-weight,
A burden those I love could start to hate?
Each word I speak feels like a sharpened stone,
Thrown into hearts that ache, yet not my own.
How can I be sure their light stays intact,
Unstained by shadows that my soul attracts?
What if my truths are daggers they can’t bear,
And I leave scars in places unaware?
How would I know their kindness doesn’t fade,
Eroded by the cost of love they’ve paid?
What if my pain becomes the thing they fear,
A haunting voice that whispers when I’m near?
How can I trust they’d hold their steady ground,
When I pull them to where I can’t be found?
What if my sorrow seeps into their core,
And they’re not who they were, not anymore?
What if I speak, and silence fills the air,
A proof their patience vanished unaware?
Do they resent the weight my words impose,
Or wish I’d keep my sadness undisclosed?
How would I know they won’t begin to flee,
Escaping from the heaviness of me?
What if their love gives out beneath the strain,
And all I’ve left are echoes of my pain?
I’m torn between the need to reach and hide,
Unsure if they can stand what’s locked inside.
Am I a poison slowly spreading through,
Or just a soul too lost to find the truth?
That’s why I think it’s better left this way,
Alone with all the words I’ll never say.
To die with silence wrapped around my chest,
And free them from the weight of my unrest.
Running towards your own death,
voluntarily.
It’s waking up with an immediate anxiety attack
over having to eat to survive.
Every bite denied is a victory over desire
and a demonstration of
self-control
in the most
out-of-control way.
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.
Anxiety seeps into my soul
Like stains on a white couch
Like songs to your mind
Panic rises
Thoughts coming faster than before
"Maybe I'll die"
"Whats happening?"
And sometimes
No thoughts at all
But never any barriers
To brake my fall
What's wrong with me?
Loud noises and yelling remind me of what happened...
Why though?
These knotted guts
eject my pulsating heart,
while I wait for my welfare
to imminently crumble–
I’m lunging from my vessel.
I frantically survey for danger,
but the culprits remain covert–
I turn up empty on my basis.
But failing to subside, I wonder…
do the wires of my diagnosis
wrap me in incessant neurosis?
Or has conditioning to trauma
trained my brain to fear?
Regardless I remain engulfed
by this looming devastation,
and my neck constantly aches
from looking over my shoulder.
Heart is racing, skin on fire
Jittering buzzing pacing cussing
Hair is wild, eyes look crazy
Shaking crying mumbling breathing
Face is wet, chest is pounding
Screaming running hiding sobbing
First I feel it in my fingers and toes
The buzzing that grows
A swarm of angry bees
Nesting deep in my stomach
The pain of numb so few will know
Vision as black as crow
I trace my raised skin
As it clamps down on my windpipe.
The anxieties of life, of self-worth, of good health,
Do overwork the mind, to rather grave lengths.
It unpacks anxieties,
dressing me in layers of loathing;
scraping insecurities
to let it rage on my being.
But still, a shadow lingers near,
a whisper of doubt, a trace of fear.
What if one day, without warning or sound,
I wake to find you’ve turned around?
What if the love I fight to sustain
isn’t enough to hold off the rain?
What if one day, when the silence grows loud,
and the laughter fades into a passing cloud,
you realize something I can’t yet see—
that maybe you’re better off without me?
It’s not your fault, my love, not at all,
it’s just a fear, a quiet call.
I trust you fully, with every breath,
with every joy, with every depth.
Your love is my harbor, my steady refrain,
and I believe in you, through joy and pain.
But trust doesn’t shield from the fears I hide,
of a day you might drift, or pull aside.
Worry a'creapin
Confusion sets
Nerves are startled
Fear Upsets
Minds a racin'
Thoughts implode
Face is flushed
Fear Explodes
Hearts a'flutter
Chest tightens up
Voices stutter
Fear Erupts
Hearts a'poundin
Sweat then rolls
Panic resounding
Fear unfolds
Deaths a'loomin
Dreads attack
All consuming
Fear is back
Peace a'buildin
Calm ensues
If Gods willing
Fear defused