While We're Alive

Anxiety

Every day,

As the sun sets into the horizon,

Wiping clean the evidence of

Day,

And as night covers the sky,

Bringing the silence, peace, and my

Aloneness,

I can say that the night awakens my monsters in my mind.

In the cover of the night, they lurk in every corner,

And every shadow,

Steady, ready to pounce at the second I let my guard down.

When people hear "anxiety"

They mostly think I'm nervous.

They think I'm shy, or nervous, shaking often, and my voice trembling under pressure.

But the truth is that my anxiety isn't a cushion to blame my actions.

Anxiety is the monster whose eyes glow in the dark of my mind, and whispers lies with its silvertounge.

Anxiety is not me saying that I am nervous,

Anxiety is me thinking the world hates me with absolutely no proof, the words sound so real in my ears I can't help but believe it.

Anxiety is looking at the sea, and trying not panic at the thought of sharks eating my feet, even though I'm only two feet deep.

Anxiety is not being able to fall in love, because every time I try i can think of a thousand ways I'm wrong.

I can see her laughing at me, even though she's clearly interested.

I can see her mocking my body and all its flaws and disappointments, even though she keeps touching me with a love and warmth that could put a child to sleep.

I can hear her calling her friends, telling them my name, description, words, and telling them to spread my failures around the world.

Anxiety is not a romance. It is not a "beautiful quirk". Anxiety is the reason I cry when I'm alone even though literally nothing is wrong, but it feels like it is.

Anxiety is wanting to run, and hide when someone is even remotely angry, because I feel like I've lost them forever because according to Anxiety, people hate me easily, since they only barely tolerate me anyway

Anxiety is fearing exposing my body,

Because every curve, every excess part of me makes me feel like I should be ahsmaed. It's being at the beach with a shirt, because no one deserves the torture of the monster called fat that wraps itself around me.

It's the cold feeling of fear strapped on your chest that comes with the mere thought of being shirtless.

It's hating myself because I don't look like the rest.

It's never trusting a compliment because you know it's not true.

It's changing five times before going out, because as much as you want to try something new, anything too bold just displays how overgrown I am, like a tumor that can't be removed.

Anxiety is dreaming that I need to raise my voice to defend myself and nothing comes out. I am trapped in the feeling of helplessness, and weakness, wanting to scream, but my chords are tied and not a single sound comes out.

Anxiety has me in its chains, just as much as I try to chain it in the dark pits of my mind.

I will not lose this battle against myself.

I am the hero of myself, and I will overcome every challenge in my way.

I will step above my demons one day, and I will laugh at the past.

One day I will love myself,

And I will know myself better than I ever thought I could.

One day, I will let myself be vulnerable, and I will let myself be loved.

Today might not be that day,

But mark my words,

That I will find that day

No matter how long I must search.