My breathing quickens. My heart beat quickens. I start to worry. I start to panic. I feel myself slowly breaking down. My palms become sweaty. I start to pace. My mind is in a race. Only I am in last place. No one else seems to see my panic. Stuck to deal with it on my own. Little things make me panic. My little attacks strike for no reason. I panic, my anxiety feels worse, my paranoia strikes me hard. I'm a bundle of problems I can't control. My mind continues to race. I pick up my pace. I try to run away. But the panic is too strong it keeps a tight hold. Why can't I let the little things pass? Everything I do strikes up a mess. Weather it be my anger, panic, anxiety, social anxiety, or paranoia. Every little thing I do strikes up one of them and I am left a mess. All alone I deal. The thoughts aren't easy to pass by. They take over my body shakes. I start to rock I try to hold the little sanity I have left. Like it is my last hope. I wrap my arms around my knees as if that will hold my broken pieces together.
YOU ARE READING
Apologies
Non-FictionThis is just something that hit me like a rock. It's not a story it's my real thoughts. Mostly just me venting about shit I think about or am actually experiencing. Vent poetry. Some things I write can be triggering so you have been warned.
