Like a puppet on strings,
I feel controlled, imprisoned.
My rationality vaporizes into nothing.
The nausea sets in.
Tears fill my eyes
And panic fills my head.
As the anticipation grows,
My fear takes over.
I sprint to the bathroom
As the bile rises in my throat.
The muscles in my stomach contract,
And I spill my guts.
My family surrounds me.
They worry, they question, they watch
As I lose all control.
Anxiety rages and won't dissipate.
Cross off that food on my list,
Boycott that activity.
The bathroom is right there,
But will I get there in time next time?
Will I embarrass myself next time,
Or will I be fortunate to be alone?
Will I choke? Will I be in control?
Who do I need to avoid?
Despite all of these questions,
And despite what I don't know,
One thing is for certain:
Emetophobia runs my life.
(Emetophobia - An abnormal and persistent fear of vomiting.)
A/N - The inspiration from this unfortunately came from me having a stomach flu on Friday. I was in Mexico and could not fly home because of how sick I actually was. Got my trip extended by two days. Two days being stuck in airports; two hotels later and I'm finally home. :")
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
