i do not have anxiety, the anxiety has me.
it lives in my stomach my neck my chest my spine
it lives in my elbow and in my mind.
the water will never be hotter
than the blotchy red patches of skin that show during an anxiety attack.
the water will never be hot enough to make much difference.
take a shower, go to bed, you need to go to bed.
i can’t sleep anymore i can’t eat anymore, something –
something is wrong
maybe writing will help. no it never looks right.
maybe crying will help. stop crying you selfish idiot.
PTSD, OCD, GAD, EMDR
your stupid alphabet soup does not make me feel better.
brush your teeth, comb your hair, take a pill to make you tired.
oh! i just remembered, i need to –
–no, don’t give in to the pillow thoughts to-do list.
but maybe it feel better do get those things done
or maybe it will only feed the monster, the hunger.
and here i am again with my laptop on my lap in bed
waiting for my drugs to send me off to a sleep i know will only last until 5am
or maybe this time it will keep me down long enough to sleep in.
only way to know is to shut up and go to bed.
here goes nothing.
