(misophonia representation)
I am sitting in a living room, eating a sandwich.
I added tomatoes for the first time,
It tastes really good, something different.
My body is calm, without pressure.
Food is like happiness filling my whole body.
I look around the room, my family doing casual things,
They are just living basically.
Then it comes. The little, anxious thought.
Starting with: What if?
God how I hate this question.
Such an annoying one. Because then I come to conclusions.
My breath starts to speed up. Oh no. Not again.
I quickly push the rest of the toast in my mouth, knowing that I will feel sick aftermath.
My mind is racing, my heart too and the anxiety is rising with every second.
It doesn't have a deep, hidden meaning.
It's just the fear. Because I really don't want to feel that pain again.
The pain, the exceptional pain. When your insides are mushed in together,
When you feel like your head is going to explode and when your mind isn't capable of thinking.
The pain when you feel like you are dying.
Oh, the perception when you hear it.
The sound, which transforms into your biggest torture.
It won't stop. It just keeps going more and more rapidly.
You feel guilt right after.
Maybe you are actually a bad person.
Because you make people uncomfortable, feeling like they can't even eat.
Why does such enjoyment of other people kill you?
YOU ARE READING
My insides are screwed
PoetryI believe that this was one of the hardest poems I have ever written. This is about my biggest struggle- misophonia. I have been fighting with this rare mental illness whole life, and it is getting worse every second. nika !THIS IS FOR REPRESENTATI...
