Dear Anxiety

Dear Anxiety

Sasha Pistone

Dear Anxiety,

You know that lump you left in my throat?

That horrible, empty, but heavy, stuffed feeling in my chest.

Those messy racing thoughts and feelings.

The bouncing legs.

The imaginary speech I have to perform that isn't even real.

The unknown reasons as to why I'm down.

The lost reasons to why I have tears sticking to my lashes.

The frustration with why I'm so close to crying and the fact I don't even know why.

That; “Wow I hate myself.” because who would ever want to live life feeling like this.

The; “I never want to be in public again.” because maybe today is the day the taut strings snap and I have another breakdown again.

Who knows maybe this all is just one huge low-key continuous panic attack over the span of two weeks.

Because my breathing feels so forced and rushed and I can't seem to hold my pencil still or write slow and neat.

So maybe, sickly sweet Anxiety, stop coming to visit me.

Sincerely,

Me

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