Posted by: Meghan | February 22, 2011

February 22, 2011

Warning/disclaimer: 2 curse words follow. read at your own discretion.

it presses on my chest like a weight.
like I can’t get up. can’t breathe.
This is the Anxiety.
This is what it feels like:
lungs too small, chest too weak, like crying with no tears
and nothing to be sad about.

It feels good–to lose control, to feel subjected
It also feels so horrible.
Why is this happening?
Shit. Right now?
The panic sets in. It changes it.
Thoughts race–
will this ever stop.
mind can’t focus on just one thing:
force the air.
words to a poem.
words from a song.


Lungs are still too small.
The weight, the pressure closes in more… more.
Wraps like a blanket
but it’s no friend.

Try to sleep? Impossible.

So fucking lonely in this moment.

To this, there is no resolution.
It comes when it wants to
and leaves just the same.



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