Lost

Disease

Trust issues are difficult to overcome.

They leave you isolated

And make it difficult for you to open up to people.

But I think I have more than just trust issues.

I think what I have used to be trust issues

But now it has morphed into something so much stronger.

The virus that is my trust issues

Has adapted to all circumstances,

And evolved into something nearly unkillable.

The most I've been able to do is slow it down a little

As it creeps up my body to choke me into silence.

There's nothing really I can do when this disease hits because

It affects my mind first.

Every time I think about sharing something about myself that's even a little personal

This disease crawls up into my brain

And brings to the forefront of my mind

Every single possible negative outcome of this interaction.

It brings them forth and pushes them down my body,

Making its way to my esophagus.

It clogs my throat with these thoughts until I can't breathe.

It twists my tongue into pretzel shapes,

And screws my jaw closed tighter than the bonds I've built with friends over years.

But it's strange because

This virus won't allow me to tell you anything directly,

But it lets me drop the most subtle of hints.

And they're often disguised in costumes of playful mannerisms,

Jokes that aren't really jokes, but you'd never be able to tell.

My eyes following someone's every move,

Little written things in poems,

And short spoken phrases that I don't explain.

It's really easy to figure me out if you know what to look for.

But I've made sure that no one knows what to look for.

I thought that I was getting better.

I started to get when I was there

In that place full of people so like me,

So understanding.

It was medicine that I needed to combat my disease.

I was more myself there than anywhere else.

But that's over.

I've run out of medicine and I can't refill my prescription.

I've reverted back to what I was before except,

My disease has further evolved.

Now in addition to the twisting of my tongue,

The clogging of my throat, and the closing of my jaw,

My joints begin to ache,

My head and stomach turn somersaults throughout my body

And my heart pounds... only serving to amplify every other symptom.

I've been once again confined to

The subtlest of hints, disguised in playful mannerisms.

Jokes that aren't really jokes, but you'd never be able to tell.

Eyes that follow a person's every move.

Little written things

Short spoken phrases I don't explain.

It's possible to figure me out if you know what to look for.

But I've made sure no one knows what to look for.

This disease that I have is really something else.

It's always changing,

Always seeming to get stronger,

Always evolving.

It learns from my mistakes,

And so do I.

That's why I rarely make the same one twice.

                                                                                     J.M.