I wake up tired
before the day even begins.
I tell myself it's fine,
that I can push through
just one more time.
I smile when I don't feel okay.
I talk when I want to stay quiet.
I act like everything is normal,
even when my chest feels too full
and my thoughts won't slow down.
All day, I pretend.
I pretend I'm strong.
I pretend I'm calm.
I pretend I'm not breaking.
When I finally get home,
I let it fall apart.
I collapse onto the floor,
cold tiles kissing my skin,
let the silence surround me,
let the tears come
because no one is watching.
I rest just enough
to stand again,
to put myself back together,
to face the world once more.
Because tomorrow,
I will do it again.
I will smile.
I will perform.
I will function.
And that-
that is the quiet cruelty
of high-functioning anxiety.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in my own head
PoetryShe is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
